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LOKL 

Alovs. 
Poet  and  Mi 

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BRicm  A. 
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EUGRNIE. 

DRLICIA. 

CADELL,  Mr«.  H.  M. 

CALVERLEY,  O.  S. 

M.V  I.KAVIL^.      .4  Ticlnmc  cf 

"CAVENDISH." 

•  Tarrl  Essiys.  Clay's  Deciiions 
»i,<]  Car.l  T.^hle  Talk. 

CnERBULIEZ,  V. 

:kE).SRF.VFJiCK 
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oulviiilAN.  ALICE. 
CRAVEN.  Mme.  A. 

DEMOCRACY.  A  ytw 

Itueyiviii'  \"vei. 
DICKENS,  CHAS. 

nRF.W    Catharine. 

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K      ;  i  V  HOLLOW. 
HUNT.  Mr«.  A.  VT. 

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JENKIN,  Mr*.  O. 

PAYS. 

10-DAY 
■.:  ::;-AUPRF- 

!    ! :, :-;;:  -  I(.\-/i;,hterS. 
Within  an  Ach. 
JOHNSON,  Rosaiter. 

PLAV-DaV  T'OUM'^. 

LAFFAN,  MAT. 

ThejIon  .Miss  ferrard. 

riiK!srv  Carew. 
McGRATH,  T. 

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MAX'WELL.  CECIL. 

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1  IN  THE  Eve. 

DIMI  I  Rl  ROUDINE. 

SPRING  Floods;  Lear 
ViR'.iN  Soil. 
TYTLER,  C.  C.  F. 

MiSTRr.<s  r  niTH. 

JONA  .  MAN. 

VERS  DE   SOCIETE 
VILLARI.  LINDA 

In  'TlANl.R    '   N'.'HA'.'Gi 

^VALFORD.  L    B 

Mr..  SMITH. 

PA'    I  INK. 
CO<   :-lNS. 

TRCiTiLESOMEDaUGH  ;  : 
UI';K  .NETHERIiV. 

TVINTHKOF.  THEO. 

C1-i;:l  IiRi-KME,  '.I .  Portrait. 

CANOh  ANP   '^MM^'C. 

JOHN  r.i'  •  ■ 

l-TWIN  I: 

I-iri-:  IN 
•WYLDE 

A  I•>■:K^^■i    : 
YESTERDAY. 


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LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES. 


FLY   LEAVES 


C.    S.    C.y. 

With  additions  from  the  author'' s  earlier  volume  of 
'■'■Verses  and  Translations.^^ 

THIRD    EDITION 

Witti  (I  new  poem. 


NEW  YORK 
HENEY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1872 


C  X  ^^ 

PUBLISHER'S  NOTE. 

A  few  people  with  a  keen  scent  for  good  things 
have  for  some  time  amused  themselves  with  the  oc- 
casional copies  brought  over  by  tourists,  of  a  little 
volume,  now  in  its  fourth  edition  in  England,  called 
"Verses  and  Translations  by  C.  S.  C."  Those  who 
knew  this  book  were  well  pleased  to  see,  this  Spring, 
the  announcement  in  the  English  papers  of  "  Fly 
Leaves,  by  C.  S.  C."  The  announcements  were 
soon  followed  by  highly  complimentary  reviews,  in 
some  of  which  the  author's  name  was  given  in  full 
as  C.  S.  Calverley. 

The  present  volume  contains  the  "Fly  Leaves," 
and  all  of  the  earlier  volume  except  the  Trans- 
lations. It  was  not  thought  that  the  translations 
would  present  enough  novelty  or  originality  to 
justify  their  reproduction. 
Junc^  1872. 

The  call  for  a  new  edition  (the  third)  permits 
the  addition  of  a  poem   written   since   the  earlier 
impressions  were  made. 
January,   1873. 


CONTENTS: 


Morning 

Evening 

Shelter 

In  the  Gloaming 

The  Palace 

Peace    . 

The  Arab 

Lines  on  Hearing  the  Organ 

Changed 

First  Love  . 

Wanderers 

Sad  Memories 

Companions 

Ballad 

Precious  Stones 

Disaster 

Contentment 

The  Schoolmaster 

Arcades  Ambo 

Waiting 

Play      . 

Love 

Thoughts  at  a  Railway  Station 


PAGE 
I 

4 
6 


13 
17 
19 
22 
29 

32 
36 

39 
42 
48 
51 
56 
59 
63 
66 
69 
71 
74 
78 


CONTENTS. 


On  the  Brink 

"Forever" 

Under  the  Trees 

Motherhood 

Mystery 

Flight 

On  the  Beach 

Lovers,  and  a  Reflection 

The  Cock  and  The  Bull 

Visions 

Gemini  and  Virgo 

"There  Stands  a  City" 

Striking 

Voices  of  the  Night 

Lines  Suggested  hy  the 

A,  B,  C. 

To  Mrs.  Goodchild    . 

Ode — 'On  a  Distant   Prospect'   of  Making 

Fortune 
Isabel   .... 
Lines  Suggested  by  the 
"  riic  Ver,   Hic  Est" 
Beer      .... 
Ode  to  Tobacco 
Dover  to  Munich 
Charades 

Proverbial  Philosophy 
Carmen  S^culare 
Dirge    .... 
The  Cuckoo 


14TH 


OF  February 


14TH 


OF  February 


FLY  LEAVES. 


MORNING. 

'''PIS  the   hour  when  white-horsed  Day- 
Chases   Night   her   mares   away ; 
When   the   Gates   of  Dawn    (they   say) 

Phoebus  opes : 
And   I  gather   that  the   Queen 
May   be   uniformly   seen, 
Should   the   weather  be   serene, 

On   the   slopes. 


When   the  ploughman,    as   he   goes 
Leathern-gaitered   o'er  the   snows, 
From    his   hat   and   from   his   nose 
Knocks   the   ice ; 

T 


MORNING. 

And    the   panes  are   frosted    o'er, 
And   the   lawn   is  crisp   and    hoar, 
As   has   l)een   observed  iDcfore 
Once   or   twice. 

When,    arrayed    in    breastplate   red, 
Sings   the   robin   for   his   bread. 
On   the   ehn-tree    that   hath   shed 

Every   leaf ; 
Wliile,   within,    the   frost  benumbs 
The   still    sleepy   school-boy's   thumbs, 
And   in    consequence   his   sums 

Come   to   grief. 

But   when   breakfast-time   hath   come, 
And    he's   crunching   crust   and    crumb, 
He'll    no   longer   look    a-glum 
fJttle   dunce  ; 


MORNING.  3 

But   be  brisk   as   bees   that   settle 
On    a   summer-rose's   petal : 
Wherefore,    Polly,   put   the  kettle 
On    at   once. 


EVENING. 

TV' ATE  I  if  e'er   thy   light   foot   h'ngers 

On    the   lawn,    when   up    the    fells 
Steals  the    Dark,   and    fairy    fingers 

Close   unseen    the   pimpernels : 
When,    his   thighs   with   sweetness   laden, 

From   the   meadow   comes   the   bee, 
And   the   lover   and   the   maiden 

Stand  beneath    the   trysting   tree  : — 

Lingers   on,   till    stars   unnumbered 
Tremble    in    the   breeze-swept    tari, 

And   the   bat   that   all   dav    slumbered 
Flits   about    the  lonely   barn ; 


EVENING.  5 

And    the  shapes  that   shrink  from  garish 
Noon   are   peopling   cairn   and   lea ; 

And    thy    sire    is    almost   bearish 
If  kept   waiting  for   his  tea  : — 

And   the   screech-owl   scares  the   peasant 
As   he    skirts   some  church-yard   drear ; 

And    the   goblins   whisper   pleasant 
Tales   in   Miss   Rossetti's   ear  3 

Importuning   her   in   strangest, 

Sweetest   tones   to  buy   their   fruits : — 

O   be   careful    that   thou   changest, 
On  returning   home,    thy   boots. 


\ 


SHELTER. 

T)Y   the  wide  lake's  margin  I  marked   her  lie — 
The   wide,    weird    lake   where    the   alders   sigh — 
A   young   fair   thing,   with   a   shy,    soft   eye ; 

And   I   deemed    that   her   thoughts    had   flown 
To  her  home,  and  her  brethren,  and  sisters  dear. 
As  she  lay  there  watching   the  dark,   deep   mere, 

All   motionless,   all   alone. 


Then    I   heard   a   noise,   as   of  men   and   boys, 

And   a   boisterous  troop   drew   nigh. 
Whither    now    will    retreat    those    f:iiry    feet":' 


SIIEL  TER.  7 

Where   hide    till    the   storm   pass   by  ? 
One  glance — the  wild  glance  of  a  hunted   thing-- 
She    cast  behind   her;    she   gave   one    spring; 
And  there  followed  a  splash  and  a  broadening  ring 

On    the   lake    where    the    alders   sigh. 

She   had   gone   from    the   ken    of  ungentle   men! 

Yet   scarce   did    I    moan   for   that ; 
For   I  knew  she  was  safe  in  her  own  home  thea 
And,    the   danger   past,   would    appear   again, 

For   she   was   a   water-rat. 


IN    THE    GLOAMING. 

TN     the    Gloaming    to    be    roaming,    where    the 
crested   waves   are   foaming, 
And   the   shy   mermaidens   combing   locks   that 
rippie   to    their   feet ; 
Where  the  Gloaming   is,  I  never   made   the  ghost 
of  an   endeavor 
To   discover  —  but   whatever   were   the  hour,    it 
would  be  sweet. 

"To  their  feet,"  I    say,  for   Leech's  sketch  indis- 
putably teaches 
That  the  mermaids  of  our  beaches  do  not  end 
in    ugly    tails, 


IN  THE  GLOAMING.  g 

Nor  have  homes  among  the  corals ;   but  are  shod 
with   neat  bahnorals, 
An  arrangement  no  one  quarrels  with,  as  many 
might  with   scales. 

Sweet  to   roam   beneath   a   shady  cliff,    of   course 
with   some   young-  lady, 
Lalage,   Neaera,    Haidee,   or    Elaine,    or    Mary 
Ann: 
Love,  you  dear  delusive  dream  you  !     Very  sweet 
your   victims    deem   you. 
When,   heard    only   by   the    seamew,   they   talk 
all   the   stuff  one   can. 

Sweet   to   haste,  a  licensed  lover,  to  Miss  Pinker- 
ton   the   glover, 
Having    managed     to     discover     what    is    dear 
Neaera's   '  size ' : 


lO  IN    THE   GLOAMING. 

P'raps   to   touch   that   wrist    so    slender,    as    youi 
tiny   gift   you   tender, 
And  to  read  you're  no  offender  in  those  laugh- 
ing  hazel   eyes. 

Then    to   hear   her   call    you    '  Harry,'    when    she 
makes   you  fetch  and    carry — 
O  young  men  about  to  marry,  what    a   blessed 
thing   it   is ! 
To   be    photographed — together — cased    in    pretty 
Russia   leather — 
Hear  her  gravely    doubting   whether   they    have 
spoilt   your    honest   phiz  ! 

Then  to  bring  your  plighted   fair  one  first  a  ring 
— a   rich    and    rare    one — 
Next  a  bracelet,  if  she'll   wear  one,  and  a  heap 
of  things   beside  ; 


IN    THE    GLOAMING.  n 

And    serenely   bending   o'er   her,   to    inquire    if    it 
would   bore   her 
To    say    when    her   own    adorer   may   aspire   to 
call   her   bride! 

Then,  the  days  of  courtship  over,  with  your  wife 
to   start   for   Dover 
Or  Dieppe — and  live  in  clover  evermore,  wliat- 
e'er   befalls  : 
For  I've  read  in  many  a  novel  that,  unless  they've 
souls   that   grovel, 
Folks   prefer    in   fact    a   hovel    to    your   dreary 
marble    halls  : 

To  sit,  happy  married  lovers ;   Phillis   trifling  with 
a   plover's 
Egg,  while    Corydon  uncovers  with  a  grice  the 
Sally   Lunn, 


12  /.y  THE  GLOAMING. 

Or  dissects  the  lucky  pheasant — that,  I  think,  were 
passing   pleasant ; 
As    I  sit   alone   at  present,  dreaming  darkly  of 
a  Dun. 


THE   PALACE. 

'T^HEY   come,   they   come,    with   fife    and   druin< 
And   gleaming  pikes   and   glancing   banners: 

Though   the   eyes    flash,    the    lips   are   dumb ; 
To   talk   in   rank   would    not   be   manners. 

Onward   they   stride,    as   Britons   can  ; 

The   ladies   following  in   the   Van. 

Who,    who   be    these    that   tramp   in   threes 
Through    sumptuous    Picadilly,    through 

'I'be   roaring   Strand,    and   stand    at   ease 
At  last   'neath   shadowy   Waterloo  ? 

Some   gallant   Guild,    I    ween,    are   they ; 

Taking   their   annual   holiday. 


14  THE    PALACE 

To   calch    the   destined    train — to   pay 

Their   willing   fares,    and   plunge   within    it — 

Is,    as    in   old    Romaunt   they    say. 

With    them    the   work   of  half-a-minute. 

Then  off  they're  whirled,  with  songs  and  shoutinj^ 

To   cedared   Sydenham   for   their   outing. 

I   marked    them   light,    with   faces   bright 
As   pansies   or   a   new-coined   florin, 

And   up   the   sunless   stair   take  flight, 
Close-packed   as   rabbits   in   a   warren. 

Honor   the    Brave,    who   in    that   stress 

Still    trod   not   upon    Beauty's   dress ! 

Kerchief  in   hand   I   saw   them   stand ; 

In    every   kerchief  lurked   a   lunch ; 
When   they   unfurled   them,    it   was   grand 

To   watch   bronzed   men    and   maidens   crunch 
The   sounding   celer}'-stick,    or   ram 
The    knife    into    the    blushing   ham. 


THE     PALACE.  15 

Dashed   the   bold   fork   through   pies   of  pork; 

O'er   hard-boiled   eggs   the   salt-spoon   shook  ; 
Leapt   from   its   lair    the   playful    cork: 

Yet   some   there   were,    to   whom   the   brook 
Seemed   sweetest   beverage,    and    for   meat 
They   chose   the   red    root   of  the   beet. 

Then   many   a   song,    some   rather   long, 
Came   quivering  up   from   girlish  throats  ; 

And   one   young   man   he   came   out   strong, 
And   gave    "The   Wolf"    without   his   notes. 

While   they   who   knew  not   song   or   ballad 

Still    munched,    approvingly,    their   salad. 

But   ah  I    what  bard   could   sing   how   hard, 
The   artless   banquet  o'er,    they   ran 

Down    the   soft   slope   with    daises  starred 
And   kingcups  !    onward,   maid    with   man, 

They   flew,   to   scale   the   breezy   swing, 

Or   court   frank   kisses   in   the    ring. 


1 6  THE    PALACE 

Such   are   the   sylvan  scenes   that  thrill 
This   heart !     The   lawns,   the   happy  shade, 

Where  matrons,   whom    the   sunbeams   grill. 
Stir  with   slow   spoon   their   lemonade ; 

And   maidens   flirt   (no   extra   charge) 

In  comfort  at  the   fountain's   marge ! 

Others    may   praise    the    "grand   displays" 

Where    "  fiery   arch,"  "  cascade,"  and    "  comet,' 

Set   the   whole   garden    in    a   "blaze"! 
Far,    at   such    times,    may   I   be   from   it ; 

Though   then   the   public   may   be  "  lost 

In   wonder "    at   a   trifling   cost. 

Fanned   by  the   breeze,    to  puff  at   ease 

My   faithful    pipe   is   all    I    crave : 
And   if  folks   rave    about   the    "trees 

Lit   up   by   fireworks,"   let   them    rave. 
Your   monster   fetes,    I   like  not  these ; 
Though    they  bring   grist   to    the   lessees. 


PEACE. 

A   STUDY. 
TITE   stood,  a   worn-out   City    clerk — 

Who'd   toiled,    and   seen    no    holiday, 
For   forty   years    from   dawn    to   dark — 

Alone  beside    Caermarthen    Bay. 

He   felt   the   salt   spray   on    his   lips ; 

Heard    children's   voices   on    the    sands , 
Up    the    sun's   path    he    saw   the   ships 

Sail   on    and   on    to   other   lands ; 

And   laughed    aloud.     Each   sight   and   sound 
To   him    was   joy   too   deep   for   tears  ; 

He   sat   him    on    the   beach,    and   bound 
A    blue   bandanna   round    his    ears ; 

2 


l8  PEACE. 

And    thought   how,   posted    near   his    door, 
His   own   green    door   on    Camden    Hill, 

Two   bands    at   least,    most   likely   more, 
Were   mingling   at   their   own   sweet   will 

Verdi   with   Vance.      And   at   the   thought 
He   laughed    again,    and    softly   drew 

That   Morning  Herald  that   he'd   bought 

Forth   from    his  breast,   and  read   it    through 


THE  ARAB. 

/^N,   on,  my   brown    Arab,  awa}',  away ! 
Thou   hast   trotted   o'er   many   a   mile    to-day, 
And    I    trow   right   meagre   hath   been   thy   fare 
Since   they   roused   thee   at   dawn  from  thy  straw 

piled   lair, 
To   tread   with   those   echoless   unshod   feet 
Yon    weltering   flats   in    the   noontide   heat, 
Where    no   palm-tree   proffers   a   kindly   shade 
And  the  eye  never  rests  on  a  cool  grass  blade; 
And   lank   is   thy   flank,  and   thy   frequent   cough, 
Oh!    11   goes    to   my   heart — but   away,  friend,  off! 


20  THE  ARAB. 

And  yet,  ah  !  what  sculptor  who  saw  thee  stand, 
As   thou   standest   now,  on    thy    Native    Strand, 
VVith  the  wild  wind  ruffling  thine   uncombed  hair, 
And   thy   nostril    upturned    to    the    od'rous    air, 
Would  not  woo  thee  to  pause,  till  his  skill  might 

trace 
At   leisure   the  lines   of  that   eager   face ; 
The    collarless    neck    and    the    coal-black   paws 
And    the   bit   grasped  tight   in    the   massive  jaws ; 
The    delicate   curve   of  the   legs,  that   seem 
Too   slight   for   their   burden — and,  O,  the   gleam 
Of  that   eye,  so   sombre   and  yet   so   gay ! 
Still   away,  my   lithe    Arab,  once    more    away  ! 


Nay,  tempt   me   not,  Arab,  again   to   stay; 
Since    I    crave   neither  Echo   nor   Fun   lo-day. 
Pbr   thy   ha7id  is   not   Echoless — there   they   arc, 
Fun,    Glowworm,    and   Echo,    and   Evening  S/iir, 


THE  ARAB.  21 

And   thou   hintest   withal    that   thou    fain    would'st 

shine, 
As   I   read  them,  these  bulgy  old  boots  of  mine. 
But  I  shrink  from  thee,  Arab !     Thou  eat'st  eel-pie. 
Thou   evermore   hast   at   least  one   black   eye ; 
There  is  brass  on  thy  brow,  and  thy  swarthy  hues 
Are   due   not   to   nature   but   handling   shoes; 
And   the   bit   in    thy   mouth,  I    regret   to   see, 
Is   a   bit   of  tobacco-pipe — Flee,  child,  flee  ! 


LINES    ON    HEARING    THE    ORGAN. 

/"GRINDER,    who   serenely   grinclest 
At   my   door   the    Hundredth    Psahn, 

Till   thou   ultimately   findest 

Pence   in    thine   unwashen   palm : 

Grinder,   jocund-hearted   Grinder, 
Near  whom    Barbary's    nimble   son, 

Poised   with    skill   upon   his   hinder 
Paws,   accepts   the   proffered   bun : 

Dearly   do    I   love   thy   grinding ; 

Joy   to   meet   thee   on   the   road 
Where    thou   prowlcst  through   the  blinding 

Dust    with   that   stupendous   load. 


LINES  ON  HEARING  THE  ORGAN.  23 

Neath   the   baleful    star   of  Sirius, 
When   the   postmen   slowlier  jog, 

And   the   ox   becomes   delirious, 
And   the   muzzle   decks    the   dog. 

Tell  me  by  what  art  thou  bindest 
On   thy   feet  those    ancient   shoon  : 

Tell  me,  Grinder,  if  thou  grindest 
Always,   always   out   of  tune. 

Tell   me   if,    as   thou   art   buckling 
On   thy   straps   with   eager   claws, 

Thou   forecastest,   inly   chuckling. 
All   the   rage   that   thou   will   cause. 

Tell   me   if  at   all   thou   mindest 
When   folks   flee,   as   if  on    wings, 

From    thee    as   at   ease    thou   grindest : 
Tell   me   fifty    thousand   things. 


24  LINES  O.V  HEARI.XG  THE  ORGAAT. 

Giintlcr,   genilc  licartcd   GrinJcr  I 

Ruffians    who   led    evil    lives, 
Soothed   by  thy   sweet   strains   are    kinder 

To    their   bullocks    and    their    wives : 

Children,    when    they   see   thy   supple 
Form    approach,    are   out   like    shots ; 

Half-a-bar  sets   several   couple 
Waltzing   in    convenient  spots  ; 

Not   with   clumsy   Jacks   or   Georgci  : 
Unprofaned    by   giasp   of  man 

Maidens  speed   those   simple   orgies, 
Betsey   Jane   with    Betsey    Ann, 

As    they   love    thee    in    St.   Giles's 

Thou    art   loved   in    Grosvenor    Square: 

None   of  those   engaging   smiles    is 
Unrt  (.  iprocated    (hero. 


LINES  ON  HEARING   THE  ORGAN.         25 

Often,  ere  thou  yet  hast  hammered 
Through    thy    four    delicious    airs, 

Coins  are  flung  thee  by  enamoured 
Housemaids   upon    area   stairs : 

E'en  the  ambrosial-whiskered  flunkey 
Eyes    thy   boots    and   thine   unkempt 

Beard    and    melancholy   monkey 
More   in   pity   than    contempt. 

Far   from    England,   in   the    sunny 
South,    where    Anio   leaps    in   foam, 

Thou   wast   reared,    till    lack   of  money 
Drew   thee   from   thy   vine-clad   home  •, 

And   thy   mate,   the    sinewy   Jocko, 

From    Brazil   or   Afric    came. 
Land   of  simoon    and    sirocco — 

And    he    seem'^    extremely    tame. 


2(5  LINES  ON  HEARING  THE  ORGAN. 

There    he    quaffed    the   undcfilecl 

Spring,    or   hung   with    ape-hke   glee, 

By  his  teeth  or  tail  or  eyelid, 
To   the   slippery   mango-tree : 

There   he   wooed   and   won   a   dusky 
Bride,    of   instincts   like   his   own ; 

Talked   of  love    till    he    was   husky 
In    a   tongue    to   us   unknown : 

Side   by   side    'twas   theirs   to   ravage 

The   potato-ground,    or   cut 
Down   the   unsuspecting   savage 

With   the   well-aimed   cocoa-nut : — 

Till    the   miscreant    Stranger   tore    him 
Screaming  from  his   blue-faced    fair ; 

And   they   flung   strange   raiment    o'er   him- 
Kaiment    which    he    could    not    bear. 


LINES  ON  HEARING  THE  ORGAN. 

Severed   from  the   pure   embraces 
Of  his   children    and   his   spouse, 

He   must   ride   fantastic   races 
Mounted   on   reluctant   sows : 

But  the  heart  of  wistful  Jocko 
Still   was   with   his   ancient   flame 

In  the  nut-groves  of  Morocco ; 
Or  if  not   it's   all   the    same. 

Grinder,   winsome  grinsome   Grinder  ! 

They   who   see    thee    and   whose   soul 
Melts   not   at   thy   charms,    are   blinder 

Than   a   trebly-bandaged   mole: 

They   to   whom   thy    curt    (yet   clever) 
Talk,   thy   music    and    thine    ape, 

Seem  not  to  be  joys  for  ever, 
Are   but   brutes   in     human    shape. 


^■1 


28  LINES  ON  HEARING   THE  ORGAN. 

'Tis    not   that   thy   mien    is    slatel}', 
'Tis   not  that   thy   tones    are    soft ; 

'Tis   not   that   I    care    so    greatly 

For   the   same    thing   played   so   oft : 

But   I've   heard   mankind   abuse   thee ; 

And   perhaps   it's   rather   strange, 
But   I   thought   that   I   would   choose    thee 
For   encomium,    as   a   change. 


CHANGED. 

T   KNOW   not   why   my    soul   is   racked 

'Why   I   ne'er  smile   as   was   my   wont : 
I   only  know  that,   as   a   fact, 

I   don't. 
I  used  to   roam  o'er   glen    and   glade 
Buoyant   and  blithe    as   other   folk : 
And   not   unfrequently    I    made 
A  joke. 

A   minstrel's    fire   within    me   burned ; 

I'd   sing,    as   one   whose   heart  must   break, 
Lay   upon    lay :    I   nearly   learned 
To    shake. 


30  CHANGED. 

All   day   I  sang ;   of  love,   of  fame, 

Of  fights   our    fathers  fought   of  yore, 
Until    the   thing  almost    became 
A  bore. 

I   cannot   sing   the   old   songs    now ! 

It  is   not   that   I   deem    them   low  \ 
'Tis   that   I    can't   remember   how 

They   go. 
I   could    not   range    the    hills    till    high 

Above   me   stood   the   summer  moon : 
And   aF   to   dancing,   I  could    fly 
As  soon. 

1'he   sports,   to   which   with   boyish   glee 
I   sprang   erewhile,   attract   no    more; 
Although   I    am    but   sixty-three 
Or   four. 


CHANGED.  31 

Nay,    worse    than    that,   I've   seemed    of    late 

To   shrink   from    happy   boyhood — boys 
Have   grown   so   noisy,    and    I   hate 
A   noise. 

They    fright  me,   when   the  beech   is   green, 

By   swarming   up   its    stem    for   eggs : 
They   drive    their    horrid    hoops   between 

My   legs : — 
It's   idle  to  repine,    I    know ; 

ni    tell   you   what    I'll    do   instead: 
I'll    drink  my   arrowroot,    and   go 
To  bed. 


FIRST    LOVE. 

^~\    MY  earliest   love,   who,  ere  I   numbered 
Ten   sweet   summers,  made    my   bosom    thrill  I 

Will  a  swallow — or  a  swift,  or  some  bird — 
Fly   to   her    and   say,    I    love   her   still  ? 

Say  my   life's   a  desert   drear   and    arid, 
To   its   one   green    spot   I    aye    recur  : 

Never,    never — although    three    times   married — 
Have    I    cared    a  jot    for   aught   but   her. 

No,  mine  own !  though  early  forced  to  leave  ]  ou, 
Still    my  heart   was   there   where  first   we   met ; 

Jn   those   "Lodgings    with    an    ample   sea-view," 
\\'hich    were,   forty   years   ago,   "  To   Let." 


FIRST  LOVE.  33 

There  I  saw  her  first,  our  landlord's  oldest 
Little   daughter.     On    a   thing   so   fair 

Thou,  O  Sun, — who  (so  they  say)  beholdest 
Everything, — hast   gazed,   I    tell   thee,    ne'er. 

There   she   sat — so   near   me,  yet   remoter 
Than    a   stai' — a   blue-eyed   bashful    imp  : 

On   her   lap   she   held   a   happy   bloater, 

'Twixt   her   lips    a   yet   more  happ}'   shrimp. 

And  I  loved  her,  and  our  troth  we  plighted 
On   the    morrow   by   the  shingly  shore  : 

In   a   fortnight  to   be   disunited 
By    a   bitter   fate  for  overm.oi-e.  . 

O   my   own,   my   beautiful,    my   blue-eyed ! 

To   be   young   once  more,   and   bite   my   thumb 

At   the    world    and   all    its    care.s    with    ycu,    I'd 

Give   no   inconsiderable   sum. 
3 


34  FIRST  LOVE. 

Hand  in  hand  we  tramped  the  golden  seaweed, 
Soon    as   o'er   the   gray  cliff  peeped   the   dawn: 

Side  by  side,  when  came  the  hour  for  tea,  we'd 
Crunch  the  mottled  shrimp  and  hairy  prawn : — 

Has   she   wedded   some   gigantic   shrimper, 

That   sweet   mite  with    whom   I   loved  to  play  ? 

Is  she  girt  with  babes  that  whine  and  whimper, 
That  bright   being   who  was   always   gay  ? 

Yes — she   has   at   least   a   dozen    wee-things  ! 

Yes — I    see   her   darning   corduroys, 
Scouring   floors,   and   setting   out   the   tea-tiiings, 

For   a   howling   herd   of  hungry   boys, 

1(1    a   home   that   reeks   of  tar   and   sperm-oil! 

But   at   intervals   she   thinks,    I   know, 
Of  these   days   which   we,   afar   from   turmoil, 

Spent   together   forty   years   ago. 


FIRST  LOVE.  35 

O   my   earliest   love,    still   unforgotten, 

With   your   downcast   eyes   of  dreamy   blue  I 

Never,   somehow,    could    I    seem   to    cotton 
To   another   as    I  did   to   you  I 


WANDERERS. 

A  S    o'er   the    hill    we   roamed   at   will, 
]\Iy    dog   and    I    together, 
We   marked    a  chaise,  by  two  bright  bays, 
Slow-moved    along   the   heather : 

Two   bays    arch-necked,  with    tails    erect 
And   gold   upon   their   blinkers : 

And   by   their   side    an    ass    I    spied ; 
It   was   a   travelling   tinker's. 

The  chaise   went   by,  nor   aught   cared    I  ; 

Such    things  are    not   in    my   way : 
I    turned   me   to   the   tinker,  who 

Was   loafing  down    a  by-way : 


WANDERERS.  37 

I   asked  him    where   he   lived — a   stare 

Was    all    I   got   in    answer, 
As  on    he    trudged  ;  I    rightly  judged 

The   stare   said    "  Where    I    can,  Sir/" 


I   asked   him   if  he'd    take    a   whiff 
Of  'bacco  ;   he    acceded ; 

He  grew   communicative   too, 
(A   pipe    was   all    he    needed,) 

Till   of  the   tinker's   life    I   think 
I  knew  as   much   as  he    did. 


"  I    loiter    down    by    thorp    and    town  ; 
For  any   job    I'm    willing  ; 
Take   here   and   there   a   dusty   brown, 
And   here    and    there    a    shilling. 

"  I    deal    in    every    \\  are    in    turn, 
I've   rings   for   buddin'    Sally 
That   sparkle  like    those   eyes   of  her'n 
I've    liquor  for    the   valet. 


38  WANDERERS. 

"  I    steal  from   th'    parson's   strawbenj-plots, 
I   hide   by   th'   squire's  covers  ; 
I    teach   the   sweet  young  housemaids   what's 
The   art   of  trapping   lovers. 

"  The   things   I've   done  'neath   moon   and   stars 
Have   got   me  into  messes ; 
I've   seen   the   sky   through   prison   bars, 
I've   torn   up   prison   dresses : 

"I've   sat,  Ive   sighed,  I've  gloomed,  I've   glanced 
With  envy   at   the   swallows 
That   through   the   window   slid,  and  danced 
(Quite   happy)   round   the   gallows : 

"  But   out   again    I   come,  and  shew 
My   face   nor  care    a   stiver  ; 
For   trades   are   brisk   and    trades   are   slow. 
But   mine  goes   on   for   ever." 

Thus  on  he  prattled  like  a  babbling  brook. 
Then  T,  "The  sun  has  slipt  behind  the  hill, 
And  my  aunt  Vivian  dines  at  half-past  six." 
So  in  all  love  we  parted;  I  to  the  Hall, 
They  to  the  village.  It  was  noised  next  noon 
That  chickens  had  been  missed  at  Syllabub 
Farm. 


SAD    MEMORIES. 

'T^HEY    tell    me   I   am    beautiful :  they    praise 

my  silken   hair, 
My    little   feet   that   silently  slip  on  from  stair   to 

stair : 
They  praise  my  pretty   trustful  face    and  innocent 

gray   eye; 
Fond     hands    caress    me     oftentimes,     yet    would 

that  I    might   die ! 

Why    was    I    born     to   be    abhorred    of  man    aiid 

bird    and   beast  ? 
The  bulfinch  marks  me    stealing  by,  and    straight 

his   song  hath   ceased  , 


40  SAD    MEMORIES. 

The    shrewmouse    eyes    me     shudderingly,     then 

flees ;   and    worse   than  that, 
The   house-dog   he    flees    after    me — why    was   I 

born    a   cat  ? 

Men  prize  the  heartless  hound  who  quits  dry- 
eyed    his   native   land  ; 

Who  wags  a  mercenary  tail  and  licks  a  tyrant 
hand. 

The  leal  true  cat  they  prize  not,  that  if  e'ei 
compelled  to  roam 

StiU  flies,  when  let  out  of  the  bag,  precipi 
lately   home. 

They   call    me   cruel.     Do   I    know   if    mouse   or 

song-bird    feels  ? 
I    only    know   they    make   me    light   and   salutary 

meals  : 
And    if,   as    'lis     my    nature    to,    ere     I   devour   1 

tease    'em, 


SAD    MEMORIES.  41 

\Vhy   should     a    low-bred  gardener's    boy    pursue 
me   with   a  besom  ? 

Should   china    fail     or    chandeliers,    or    anything 

but   stocks — 
Nay  stocks,  when   they're   in    flowerpots — the   cat 

expects   hard   knocks : 
Should    ever    anything    be    missed — milk,    coals, 

umbrellas,   brandy — 
The   cat's  pitched   into   with   a   boot    or  anything 

that's   handy. 

I    remember,    I    remember,     how     one     night    I 

fleeted   by, 
And   gained    the    blessed    tiles   and    gazed    into 

the  cold   clear   sky. 
I     remember,     I      remember,     how      my    various 

lovers   came  ; 
And  there,   beneath     the    crescent    moon,    played 

many   a  little   game. 


42  SAD    MEMORIES. 

They  fought — by  good  St.  Catharine,  'twas  a 
fearsome   sight   to   see 

The  coal-black  crest,  the  glowering  orbs,  of  one 
gigantic   He. 

Like  bow  by  some  tall  bowman  bent  at  Hast- 
ings  or    Poictiers, 

His  huge  back  curved,  till  none  observed  a  ves- 
tige  of  his  ears : 

tie   stood,    an   ebon   crescent,    flouting   yon    ivory 

moon; 
Vti%it\   raised   the   pibroch   of    his   race,   the    Song 

without    a   Tune  : 
Gleamed     his     white     teeth,     his     mammoth    tail 

waved    darkly    to    and   fro, 
'Is   with   one   complex   yell    he    burst,   all    claws, 

upon  the  foe. 

ft  thrills  me  now,  that  final  Miaow — that  weird 
unearthly   din  : 


SAD    MEMORIES.  43 

Lone    maidens    heard   it    far   away,    and    leaped 

out  of  their  skin. 
A   pot-boy  from    his   den  overhead  peeped   with  a 

scared  wan  face ; 
Then     sent     a     random     brickbat     down,      which 

knocked   me   into  space. 

Nine    days   I   fell,    or   thereabouts :    and,  had   we 

not   nine   lives, 
I  wis   I   ne'er   had   seen    again   thy  sausage-shop, 

St.    Ives  ! 
Had     T,     as     some    cats     have,    nine     tails,     how 

gladly   T   would    lick 
The    hand,     and    person    generally,    of  him    who 

heaved    that    brick  ! 

For  me   they   fill  the  milk-bowl    up,    and   cull  the 

choice  sardine  : 
But  ah !    I    nevermore    shall    be   the   cat    I    once. 

have   been  ! 


44  SAD    MEMORIES. 

The   memories    of    that    fatal    night    they   haunt 

me   even    now : 
In   dreams   I   see   that   rampant    He,    and    trern* 

ble   at   that  Miaow. 


COMPANIONS. 
A  TALE   OF  A   GRANDFATHER. 

T    KNOW  not  of  what   we   pondered 

Or   made  pretty   pretence   to   talk, 
As,   her  hand    within    mine,    we    wandered, 
Tow'rd   the   pool   hy    the   lime-tree  walk, 
While   the  dew  fell   in  showers  from   the   passioB 
flowers 
And   the   blush-rose   bent   on   her   stalk 

I   cannot   recall    her   figure  : 

Was   it   regal    as   Juno's   o\vn  ? 
Or   only   a   trifle   bigger 

Than    the    elves    who   surround   the    throne 
Of  the   Faery   Queen,    and   are   seen,   I  ween, 

By   mortals   in    dreams    alone  ? 


46  COMPANIONS. 

What   her   eyes   were   Hke    I  know    not : 
Perhaps    they   were   bhirred    with  tears ; 

And   perhaps   in   yon   skies   there   glow    not 
(On    the   contrary)    clearer  spheres. 
No  !    as   to   her   eyes    I    am  just   as   wise 
As   you   or   the   cat,    my   dears. 

Her   teeth,   I   presume,   were    "  pearly "  : 
But   which   was   she,   brunette    or   blonde  ? 

Her   hair,    was   it   quaintly   curly, 

Or   as   straight   as   a   beadle's    wand  ? 
That   I   failed    to   remark  ; — it   was  rather   dark 
And   shadowy   round    the   pond. 

Then   the   hand   that  reposed   so   snugly 
In   mine — was   it  plump   or   spare  ? 

Was   the   countenance   fair   or  ugly  ? 
Nay,   children,   you   have   me   there ! 
il^  eyes  were  p'haps  blurred  ;  and  besides  I'd  heard 
That   it's   horribly   rude   to   stare. 


COMPANIONS.  47 

And   I — was   I   brusque   and   surly  ? 
Or   oppressively   bland   and   fond  ? 
Was   I   partial   to   rising   early  ? 
Or  why   did  we   twain    abscond, 
When   nobody   knew,   from   the   public   view 
To   prowl   by   a   misty   pond  ? 

What  passed,   what   was   felt  or   spoken — 
Whether   anytliing  passed   at   all — 

And   whether   the   heart  was   broken 

That   beat   under   that   shelt'ring   shawl — 
(If  shawl  she  had  on,  which  I  doubt) — has  gone, 
Yes,  gone  from    me   past   recall. 

Was   I  haply   the    lady's   suitor? 

Or  her   uncle  ?     I   can't   make   out — 
Ask  your  governess,   dears,   or  tutor. 

For   myself,   I'm   in   hopeless   doubt 
As  to  why  we  were  there,  who  on  earth  we  were 

And   what   this   is   all   about. 


BALLAD. 

nPHE    auld   wife   sat    at   her   ivied   door, 
(Butter   ajid  eggs  and  a  pound  of  c/ie-sc) 

A   thing   she   had   frequently   done   before ; 

And  her  spectacles   lay   on    her  aproned   knees 

The   piper   he   piped   on  the   hill-top  high, 

(Butter  and  eggs  and  a  pound  of  cheese) 
Till   the   cow   said  "  I  die,"  and    the   goose  asked 

"Why;" 
And  the  dog  said  nothing,  but  searched  for   fleas. 

The  farmer  he  strode  through  the  square  fariiivnrd  ; 

(Butter  and  eggs   and  a  pound  of  cheese) 
His   last   brew   of  ale   was   a  trifle  hard — 

The  connection  of  which  with  the  plot  one  sees. 


BALLAD.  49 

The   farmer's   daughter   hath   frank   blue    eyes; 

(Butter  and  eggs   and  a  pound  of  cheese) 
She   hears   the   rooks   caw   in    the   windy   skies, 

As    she  sits   at   her  lattice  and  shells  her   peas. 

The   farmer's  daughter   hath    ripe   red   lips ; 

(Butter  and  eggs   ajid  a  pound  of  cheese) 
If  you   try   to   approach   her,    away   she   skips 

Over   tables   and   chairs   with   apparent   ease. 

The   farmer's   daughter   hath   soft   brown   hair; 

(Butter  aiid  eggs   and  a  pound  of  cheese) 
And  1    met   with   a   ballad,    I  can't   say   where, 

Which   wholly   consisted   of  lines   like   these. 

Part  I[. 

She  sat  with  her  hands  'neath  her  dimpled  cheeks, 

(Butter  and  eggs   and  a  pound  of  cheese) 

And    spake   not   a    word.     While    a   lady   speaks 

There   is    hope,    but    she    didn't   even    sneeze. 
4 


^o  BALLAD. 

She  sat,  with  her  hands  'ncath  her  ciimson  checks  , 
(Butter   and  eggs   and  a  pound  of  cheese') 

She   gave   up   mending   her   father's   breeks, 
And   let   the   cat   roll   in    her   best   chemise. 

She  sat,  with  her  hands  'neath  her  burning  cheeks, 
(Butter  and  eggs   and  a  pound  of  cheese) 

And   gazed   at   the   piper   for    thirteen    weeks ; 
Then  she   followed  him  out  o'er  the  misty  leas. 

Her   sheep   followed  her,  as   their  tails   did  them. 

(Butter  and  eggs  and  a  pound  of  cheese) 
And   this   song   is   considered   a   perfect   gem, 

And   as    to   the  meaning,  it's  what   you    please 


PRECIOUS  STONES. 
AN  INCIDENT  IN  MODERN  HISTORY."*^ 
IV /TY   Cherrystones  !     I    prize   them, 

No   tongue   can   tell   how   much ! 
Each  lady   caller   eyes  them, 

And  madly   longs   to   touch ! 
At  eve   I   lift   them    down,    I    look 

Upon   them,    and    I   cry ; 
Recalling  how   my   Prince   'partook' 

(Sweet  word  !)    of  cherry-pie  ! 

To   me   it   was   an   Era 

In   hfe,    that   Dejeuner ! 
They   ate,   they   sipped    Madeira 

Much   in    the   usual   way. 

*  *  There  was  a  certain  climax  of  British  snobbism  re- 
corded in  the  Times,  a  few  years  ago,  in  relation  to  clierry 
stones.  The  Prince  of  Wales  was  eating  cherries  in  a  public 
garden,  and  as  he  dropped  the  stones,  some  loyal  lady  picked 
them  up  and  pocketed  them,  in  order,  doubtless,  to  bequeath 
them  as  a  rich  legacy  unto  her  issue." — C/iaj/tbers'  yournal. 


52 


PRECIOUS  STONES. 

Many   a   soft   item   there   would   be, 
No   doubt,    upon   the   carte : 

But   one   made   life    a   heaven   to   me : 
It   was   the   cherry-tart. 

Lightly   the   spoonfuls   entered 

That   mouth    on   which   the   gaze 
Of  ten  fair  girls   was   centred 

In   rapturous  amaze. 
Soon   that   august   assemblage   cleared 

The   dish  ;    and — as    they   ate — 
The   stones,   all   coyly,    reappeared 

On  each   illustrious   plate. 

And   when    His   Royal    Highness 
Withdrew    to   take  the   air. 

Waiving    our   natural    shyness, 
We   swooped    upon    his   chair. 


PRECIOUS    STONES.  53 

Policemen  at  our   garments   clutched  :^ 
We   mocked    those   feeble   powers  ; 

And   soon   the   treasures   that   had   touched 
Exalted   lips   were   ours ! 

One   large   one— at   the   moment 

It   seemed   almost   divine — 
Was  got  by   that   Miss   Beaumont: 

And   three,    O    three,   are   mine! 
Yes!    the   three   stones   that   rest  beneath 

Glass,  on    that   plain   deal    shelf, 
Stranger,   once   dallied   with   the   teeth 

Of  Royalty  itself. 

Let   Parliament   abolish 

Churches    and    States    and   Thrones: 
With   reverent   hand    I'll   polish 

Still,    still   my    Cherrystones  ! 


54  PRECIOUS    STONES. 

A   clod — a   piece   of  orange-peel — 

An    end   of  a   cigar — 
Once   trod   on   by   a    Princely   heel, 

How   beautiful    they    are  I 


Years   since,    I   climbed   Saint   Michael — ■ 

His   Mount : — you'll    all   go    there 
Of  course,    and    those    who    like'il 

Sit    in    Saint    Michael's    Chair  : 
For    there    I    saw,    within    a    frame, 

The   pen — O    heavens  !    the   pen — 
With  which  a  Duke  had  signed  his  name, 

And   other   gentlemen. 

"Great    among   geese,"    I    faltered, 
"  Is    she    who    grew    that    quill  !  " 

And,^  Deathless    Bird,    unaltered 
Is    mine   opinion    still. 


PRECIOUS    STONES.  55 

Yet,    sometimes,    as    I    view    my   three 
Stones    with    sweet    tlioughtful    brow, 

I    think   there    possibly    might    be 
E'en    greater    geese    than    thou. 


DISASTER. 

'  '"PWAS    ever   thus   from   childhoocrs   hour 

My   fondest   hopes    would   not   decay : 
I    never   loved   a   tree    or   flower 

Which   was   the    first   to   fade    away ! 
The   garden,    where    I    used   to  delve 

Short-frocked,    still   yields    me   pinks    in   plenty 
The   pear-tree   that   I    climbed    at   twelve 

I  see   still   blossoming,  at   twenty. 


I   never   nursed    a   dear  gazelle. 

But    I    was   given    a   parroquet — 
How   I   did   nurse   him    if  unwell  ! 

He's   imbecile,    but   lingers   yet. 


DISASTER.  57 

He's   green,    with    an   enchanting   tuft ; 

He   melts   me    with   his   small   black   eye  : 
He'd   look   inimitable   stutTed, 

And   knows   it — but   he   will   not   die ! 

I   had    a   kitten — I   was   rich 

In   pets — but   all   too   soon    my   kitten 
Became    a   full-sized   cat,    by   which 

I've  more  than  once  been  scratched  and  bitien 
And   when   for   sleep   her   limbs    she    curled 

One   day   beside   her   untouched   plateful, 
And   glided    calmly    from    the  world, 

I   freely   own   that   I    was  grateful. 

And   then    I   bought   a   dog — a  queen! 

Ah   Tiny,    dear   departing  pug! 
She   lives,   but   she   is   past   sixteen 

Ar.d    scarce    can    crawl    across    the    rug. 


58  DISASTER. 

I    loved   her   beautiful    and    kind ; 

Delighted   in    her   pet    Bow-wow  : 
But   now  she   snaps    if  you    don't   mind ; 

'Twere   lunacy   to   love   her   now. 

I  used    to   think,    should   e'er   mishap 

Betide    my    crumple-visaged    Ti, 
In    shape    of   prowling    thief,    or   trap, 

Or    coarse    bull-terrier — I    should    die. 
But    ah  !    disasters    have    their    use ; 

And    life    might    e'en    be    too    sunshiny : 
Nor    would    I    make    myself  a    goose, 

If   some    big    dog    should    sv.allow    Tiny. 


CONTENTMENT. 
AFTER    THE    MANNER    OF    HORACE. 

T^RIEND,  there   be  they  on  whom  mishap 

Or   never   or   so   rarely   comes, 
That,  when   they   think   thereof,  they   snap 
Derisive   thumbs : 

And  there   be   they  who   lightly   lose 

Their  all,  yet   feel   no   aching   void  ; 
Should   aught   annoy   them,  they   refuse 
To   be   annoyed : 

And   fain   would   I   be   e'en    as   these ! 

Life   is   with   such   all   beer   and    skittles ; 
They   are   not   difficult   to   please 
About   their   victuals : 


6o  CONTENTMENT. 

The    trout,  the   grouse,  the   early   pea, 
By   such,  if  there,  are   freely   taken  ; 
If  not,  they    munch  with   equal    glee 
Their   bit   of  bacon : 

And    when    they   wax   a   little   gay 

And   chaff  the    public   after   luncheon, 
If  they're   confronted   with   a   stray 
Policeman's   truncheon. 

They   gaze   thereat   with    outstretched    necks, 

And  laughter  which  no  threats  can  smother. 
And    tell   the   horror-stricken    X 
That   he's   another. 

In   snow-time   if  they   cross   a   spot 

Where   unsuspected    boys   have   slid. 
They   fall    not   down — though    they   would    not 
Mind    if  tliey   did  : 


CONTENTMENT.  6l 

When  the  spring  rose-bud  which  they  wear 

Breaks   short   and    tumbles    from    its  stem, 
No   thought    of  being   angry   e'er 
Dawns   upon   them  ; 

Though   'twas   Jemima's   hand   that   placed, 
(As   well   you   ween)    at   evening's   hour, 
In   the   loved   buttonhole   that   chaste 
And   cherished   flower. 

And   when   they   travel,  if  they   find 

That   they   have   left   their  pocket-compass 
Or   Murray   or   thick   boots   behind. 
They   raise    no   rumpus. 

But   plod   serenely   on   without: 

Knowing   it's   better   to   endure 
The   evil   which  beyond    all    doubt 
You    cannot    cure. 


62  CONTENTMENT. 

When    for   that    early   train    they're   late, 

They   do   not    make    their   woes   the   text 
Of  sermons   in   the    Times,  but   wail- 
On   for   the    next ; 

And   jump    inside,  and   only   grin. 

Should    it   appear   that   that-  dry   wag, 
The  guard,  omitted   to   put   in 
Their  carpet-bag. 


THE   SCHOOLMASTER  ABROAD 
WITH    HIS    SON. 

/^   WHAT   harper   could   worthily    harp  it, 
Mine    Edward !    this   wide-stretching   wold 

(Look   out   wold)    with  its   wonderful   carpet 
Of  emerald,  purple,    and   gold ! 

Look  well  'at   it — also   look   sharp,   it 
Is   getting   so   cold. 

The  purple   is   heather   {erica)  ; 

The  yellow,  gorse — called  sometimes  "whin." 
Cruel   boys   on    its  prickles   might  spike   a 

Green   beetle    as   if  on    a   pir. 
You   may   roll    in    it,   if  you   would   like   a 
Few    hoUs    in    your   skin. 


64  THE    SCHOOLMASTER    ABROAD 

You  wouldn't?     Then  think  of  how  kind  you 
Should   be   to  the   insects   who   crave 

Your   compassion — and    then,    look   behind    you 
At  yon  barley-ears  !     Don't  they  look  brave 

As   they   undulate? — {jindiilaL',    mind   you, 
From   unda,   a   wave.) 

The   noise   of  those  sheep-bells,  how  faint  it 
Sounds   here — (on  account   of  our   height)  ! 

And   this   hillock   itself — who   could   paint  it, 
With   its    changes   of  shadow   and   light  ? 

Is  it   not — (never,    Eddy,    say   "  ain't   it ") — 
A   marvellous   sight  ? 

Then   yon   desolate   eerie   morasses, 

The   haunts   of  the   snipe  and    the   hern- 

(I   shall    question    the    two   upper   classes 
On   aquatiles,    when    we  return) — 

Why,    I   see    on    them    absolute   masses 
Of  JiHx   or   fern. 


WITH  HIS    SON.  65 

How   it  interests   e'en   a   beginner 

(Or  tiro)    like   dear   little   Ned ! 
Is    he    listening  ?     As   I    am    a   sinner 

He's  asleep — he  is   wagging  his   head.    - 
Wake   up !     I'll   go   home   to   my   dinner, 
And  you   to   your  bed. 

The  boundless   ineffable   prairie; 

The  splendor   of  mountain    and   lake 
With   their   hues   that   seem   ever   to   vary  | 

The  mighty   pine   forests  which   shake 
In  the   wind,    and  in   which   the   unwary 
May   tread   on   a   snake ; 

And   this   wold   with   its   heathery  garment — 

Are   themes   undeniably   great. 
But — although  there    is   not   any   harm  in't — 

It's   perhaps   little   good   to  dilate 

On   their   charms   to  a   dull   little  varmint 

Of  seven  or   eight. 
5 


ARCADES    AMBO. 

A^T'HY   are    ye    wandering    aye   'twixt    porch 
and   porch, 
Thou  and  thy  fellow — when  the  pale  stars  fade 
At    dawn,   and   when   the   glowworm   lights  her 
torch, 
O   Beadle   of  the   Burlington   Arcade? 
— ^WTio  asketh  why  the  Beautiful  was   made  ? 
A   wan   cloud    drifting   o'er   the   waste   of  blue, 
The   thistledown   that  floats  above  the   glade, 
The   lilac-blooms   of  April — fair   to   view, 
And     naught    but    fair    are    these;    and    such,   I 
ween,    are   you. 


ARCADES   AMBO.  67 

Yes,  ye   are  beautiful.     The   young   street   boys 
Joy   in    your    beauty.     Are   ye   there    to   bar 
Their   pathway   to    that   paradise   of  toys, 

Ribbons   and   rings  ?     Who'll  blame   ye   if  ye 

are? 
Surely   no  shrill  and  clattering  crowd  should 
mar 
The  dim  aisle's  stillness,  where  in    noon's   mid- 
glow 
Trip  fair-haired  girls  to  boot-shop  or  bazaar ; 
Wliere,    at   soft   eve,  serenely  to  and  fro 
The  sweet  boy-graduates  walk,  nor  deem  the  pas- 
time  slow. 

And   Oh !    forgive    me.    Beadles,    if  I   paid 
Scant   tribute    to    your   worth,   when   first    ye 
stood 
Before   me    robed   in   broadcloth    and    brocade 


68  ARCADES    AMBO. 

And   all    the  nameless  grace   of  Beadlehood! 

I   would   not   smile    at    ye — if  smile    I   could 

Now   as   erewhile,   ere   I   had   learned   to   sigh : 

Ah,    no !    I   know  ye   beautiful   and   good, 
And  evermore   will   pause   as   T   pass   by, 
And  gaze,   and   gazing  think,    how   base   a   thing 
am  L 


WAITING. 

^^  ('\  COME,  O  come,"  the   mother  prayed 
And   hushed  her   babe:    "let  me  behold 

Once   more   thy   stately   form    arrayed 
Like   autumn  woods   in   green   and   gold 

"  I   see   thy  brethren   come   and  go ; 
Thy  peers   in   stature,   and   in   hue 
Thy   rivals.  ■   Some   like   monarchs   glow 
With   richest   purple :    some   are   blue 

"  As   skies   that  tempt   the   swallows  back ; 

Or  red   as,   seen   o'er   wintry   seas, 
The   star   of  storm  ;   or   barred   with   black 
And   yellow,  like   the    April   bees. 


70  W'AITIXG. 

"  Come   they   and   go  !    I    heed    not,    I. 
Yet   others   hail   their   advent,    cling 
All    trustful    to    their   side,    and    fly 
Safe   in    their  gentle   piloting 

"To   happy    homes   on    heath    or   hi!!, 
By   park   or   river.     Still    I    wait 
And   peer   into    the    darkness:    still 
Thou   com'st   not — I   am   desolate. 

"  Hush  !    hark !    I   see   a    towering   form 
From  the   dim    distance   slowly   rolled 
It   rocks    like   lilies   in    a   storm, 

And   O   its   hues   are   green   and   gold 

"  It   comes,    it   comes  1     Ah    rest   is   sweet, 
And   there   is   rest,    my   babe,    for   us ! " 
She  ceased,   as   at   her  very   feet 

Stopped    the    St.    John's    Wood    omnibus. 


PLAY. 

T)LAY,    play,   while   as   yet   it   is   day : 

Wliile   the  sweet   sunlight   is   warm   on   the   brae ! 

Hark   to   the  lark   singing   lay   upon   lay, 

While  the  brown  squirrel  eats  nuts  on   the  spray 

And   in   the   apple-leaves   chatters   the   jay ! 

Play,   play,   even   as   they ! 

What   though   the   cowslips   ye   pluck   will    decay, 

Wliat   though   the   grass   will    be   presently   hay  ? 

What  though  the  noise  that  ye  make  should  dismay 

Old   I\Irs.    Clutterbuck    over   the    way  ? 

Play,    play,   for   your   locks   will   grow   gray ; 

Even   the   marbles   ye   sport   with    are   clay- 


72  PLA  V. 

Play,    ay   in   the   crowded   highway: 
Was   it   not   made   for  you  ?     Yea,   my    lad,   yea. 
True   that   the   babes   you   were   bid   to   convey 
Home  may  fall   out   or   be   stolen   or   stray  ; 
True   that   the   tip-cat   you    toss   about   may 
Strike   an   old   gentleman,  cause   him   to   sway, 
Stumble,    and   p'raps   be   run    o'er   by   a   dray : 
Still   why   delay  ?     Play,   my   son,   play ! 
Barclay  and   Perkins,    not  you,   have   to   pay. 

Play,   play,   your   sonatas   in   A, 
Heedless  of  what   your  next   neighbor   may   say  ! 
Dance  and   be   gay   as   a   faun   or   a  fay. 
Sing   like   the   lad    in   the   boat   on    the    bay; 
Sing,  play — if  your   neighbors   inveigh 
Feebly   against  you,    they're   lunatics,   eh  ? 
Bang,    twang,   clatter   and   clang, 
Strum,    thrum,   upon   fiddle   and   drum ; 


FLA  Y.  73 


Neigh,    bray,    simply    obey 
All    your    sweet    impulses,    stop    not    or    stay  1 
Rattle  the    'bones,'    hit   a    tin-bottomed    tray 
Hard    with    the    fire-shovel,   hammer    away! 
Is    not   your    neighbor    your    natural    prey? 
Should   he   confound   you,    it's    only   in   play. 


LOVE. 

/^ANST   thou   love   mc,   lady? 

I've   not   learned   to   woo : 
Thou   art   on   the   shady 

Side   of  sixty   too. 
Still   I   love   thee   dearly  ! 

Thou   hast   lands   and   pelf: 
But   I   love   thee   merely — 

Merely   for   thyself. 


Wilt   thou   love   me,   fairest? 

Though    thou    art   not  fair ; 
And   I   think   thou   wearest 

Some   one   else's   hair. 


LOVE.  75 

Thou   could'st   love,   though,   dearly: 

And,   as   I   am  told, 
Thou   art   very   nearly 

Worth   thy   weight,   in   gold. 

Dost   thou   love   me,    sweet  one? 

Tell   me   that   thou   dost! 
Women   fairly   beat   one. 

But   I   think   thou   must. 
Thou   art   loved   so   dearly; 

I    am   plain,    but   then 
Thou    (to   speak   sincerely) 

Art   as   plain   again. 

Love   me,   bashflil   fair}' ! 

I've   an    empty   purse: 
And   I've   "moods,"   which   vary; 

Mostlv   for   the    worse. 


76  LO  VE. 

Still,  I  love  thee  dearly : 
Though   I   make    (I   feel) 

Love   a  little  queerly, 
I'm   as    true   as   steel. 

Love   me,   swear   to   love   me 

(As,   you   know,    they   do) 
By  yon   heaven   above   me 

And   its   changeless   blue. 
Love   me,   lady,   dearly, 

If  you'll   be   so   good  ; 
Though   I   don't   see   clearly 

On   what  ground   you   should. 

Love  me — ah  or  love  me 
Not,   but   be    my   bride ! 

Do  not  simply  shove  me 
(So   to   speak)    aside  ! 


LOVE.  77 


P'raps   it   would   be   dearly 
Purchased   at   the   price; 

But   a  hundred   yearly 
Would   be   very   nice. 


THOUGHTS    AT  A   RAILWAY   STATION 

''T^IS   but  a  box^   of  modest  deal ; 

Directed    to  no   matter   where  : 
Yet   down   my   cheek   the   teardrops  steal — 
Yes,    I   am  blubbering   like   a   seal  ; 
For  on   it   is   this    mute   appeal, 
"  With  care." 

I   am    a   stern   cold  man,  and   range 

Apart:  but  those   vague   words  "  With   care"'' 
Wake  yearnings   in   me   sweet   as   strange: 
Drawn   from   my  moral   Moated   Grange, 
I  feel  I   rather   like  the   change 
Of  air. 


THOUGHTS  AT  A    RAILWAY  STATION.    79 

Hast   thou  ne'er  seen   rough   pointsmen    spy 

Some   simple   English   ^\Ycz.%^-''With  care'' 
Or   ''This   side   uppermost'"— ^nd   cry 
Like   children?     No?     No  more   have   L 
Yet   deem   not   him   whose   eyes  are   dry 
A  bear. 

But   ah  !   what   treasure   hides   beneath 

That   lid   so   much   the   worse   for   wear? 
A  ring  perhaps— a   rosy   wreath — 
A  photograph  by  Vernon   Heath- 
Some   matron's   temporary   teeth 
Or  hair ! 

Perhaps   some   seaman,   in   Peru 

Or   Ind,   hath   stowed   herein    a   rare 
Cargo   of  birds'   eggs   for  his    Sue; 
With   many   a   vow   that   he'll   be   true, 
And  many   a  hint   that   she   is   too — 
Too   fair. 


So     THOUGHTS  AT  A  RAIL  WA  V  STA  TION. 

Perhaps — but   wherefore   vainly  pry 

Into   the   page   that's   folded   there? 
I   shall   be   better  by   and   bye : 
The   porters,   as   I   sit   and   sigh, 
Pass   and   repass — I   wonder  why 
They   stare  ! 


ON   THE   BRINK. 

T  WATCllED   her   as   she   stooped   to   pluck 

A   wild  flower   in   her  hair   to   twine ; 
And   wished   that   it  had  been   my   luck 
To   call   her  mine. 

Anon   I  heard  her  rate   with   mad — 

Mad   words   her  babe   within   its   cot; 
And   felt  particularly  glad 
That  it  had  not. 

I  knew    (such   subtle   brains   have   men) 

That   she   was   uttering   what   she   shouldn't ; 

And   thought  that   I   would   chide,    and   then 

I   thought   I   wouldn't: 
6 


82  ^^V    THE    BRIXK. 

Few   could    have   gazed   upon   that    face, 

Those  pouting  coral   lips,   and   chided: 
A   Rhadamanthus,    in    my   place, 
Had   done   as   I   did : 

For    wrath   with   which   our   bosoms   glow 

Is   chained    there   oft   by   Beauty's   spell; 
And,   more    than   that,    I   did    not   know 
The   widow   well. 

So   the   harsh   phrase   passed   unreproved. 

Still   mute — (O   brothers,    was   it   sin?) — 
I  drank,  unutterably   moved, 
Her   beauty   in  : 

And   to   myself   I    murmured   low, 

As   on    her   upturned   face   and    dress 
The   moonlight   fell,   'would    she   say   No — 
By   chance,    or   Yes  ? ' 


ON    THE    BRINK.  83 

She   stood   so   calm,   so   like   a   ghost 
Betwixt   me    and   that   magic   moon, 
That   I   already   was   almost 
A  finished   coon. 

But  when   she   caught   adroitly   up 

And  soothed  with  smiles  her  little  daughter  j 
And  gave   it,  if  I'm   right,   a   sup 
Of  barley-water; 

And,   crooning  still   the   strange   sweet  lore 
Which   only   mothers'   tongues   can   utter, 
Snowed   with   deft   hand   the   sugar   o'er 
Its   bread-and-butter; 

And   kissed   it   clingingly — (Ah,   why 

Don't   women   do   these   things   in   private?) — 
I   felt   that   if  I   lost   her,   I 
Should    not   survive   it : 


84  ON   THE  BRINK. 

And   from   my   mouth   the   words   nigh   flew — 

The  past,    the   future,   I   forgat   'em : 
*'  O  !  if  you'd   kiss   me   as   you   do 
That   thankless   atom  !  " 

But  this   thought   came   ere   yet    I   spake, 

And   froze   the   sentence   on   my    Hps : 
"They  err,   who   marry   wives   that   make 
Those   Httle   sHps." 

It   came   like   some   familiar   rhyme, 
Some   copy   to   my   boyhood    set: 
And   that's   perhaps   the   reason   I'm 
Unmarried   yet. 

Would   she   have   owned   how   pleased   she   was, 

And   told   her   love   with    widow's   pride? 
I  never  found   out   that,   because 
I   never   tried. 


ON-   THE  BRINK.  85 

Be   kind   to   babes    and   beasts    and   birds : 

Hearts  may  be   hard   though  lips   are   coral  j 
And   angry   words    are    angry   words : 
And   that's  the   moral. 


-  FOREVER." 

■pOREVER  !      -Tis   a   single   word  ! 

Our  rude   forefathers   deemed   it   two 
Can  you   imagine   so    absurd 
A   view  ? 

Forever !     What   abysms   of  woe 

The  word   reveals,  what   frenzy,  what 
Despair!     For   ever    (printed   so) 
Did   not. 

It   looks,  ah   me  !    how   trite   and   tame  ! 

It   fails    to   sadden   or   appal 
Or   solace — it   is   not   the   same 
At   all. 


"  forever:'  ■      87 

O   thou   to   whom   it  first   occurred 

To   solder   the   disjoined,  and   dower 
Thy   native   language   with   a   word 
Of  power : 

We  bless   thee !     Whether   far   or   near 

Thy   dwelling,  whether   dark   or   fair 
Thy   kingly   brow,  is  neither   here 
Nor   there. 

But   in   men's   hearts   shall   be   thy   throne-, 

While   the   great   pulse   of  England   beats : 
Thou   coiner   of  a   word   unknown 
To   Keats ! 

And    nevermore   must  printer   do 

As   men   did   long   ago ;   but   run 
"  For  "    into   "  ever,"   bidding   two 
Be   one. 


88  "  FORI  VERr 

Forever!   passion-fraught,  it   throws 

O'er  the   dim   page  a   gloom,  a   glamour 
It's    sweet,  it's   strange;   and    I    suppose 
It's   grammar. 

Forever !     'Tis   a   single   word ! 

And    yet   our   fathers   deemed  it   two: 
Nor   am   I   confident   they  erred; 
Are  you? 


UNDER  THE  TREES. 

^^  T  TNDER  the   trees !  "    Who  but   agrees 
That   there   is   magic   in   words   such   as   these  ? 
Promptly   one   sees   shake    in   the   breeze 
Stately  lime-avenues   haunted   of  bees : 
Where,   looking  far  over  buttercujDped   leas, 
Lads   and   "  fair   shes"    (that   is    Byron,    and   he's 
An   authority)    lie   very   much   at   their   ease ; 
Taking  their   teas,    or   their  duck  and  green  peaSj 
Or,  if  they  prefer  it,  their  plain  bread  and  cheese: 
Not  objecting  at  all  though  it's  rather   a   squeeze 
And   the   glass   is   I    daresay   at   80   degrees. 
Some   get   up   glees,    and   are   mad   about  Ries 
And    Sainton,    and   Tamberlik's  thrilling  high  Cs ; 


90  UNDER    THE    TREES. 

Or  if  painter,  hold  forih  upon  Hunt  and  Maclise, 
And  the  tone   and    the  breadth   of  that  landscape 

of  Lee's ; 
Or  if  learned,  on   nodes  and  the  moon's  apogees 
Or,   if  serious,    on   something   of  AKHB's, 
Or   the   latest   attempt   to   convert   the   Chaldees ; 
Or   in  short  about  all  things,  from  earthquakes  to 

fleas. 
Some   sit  in   t^vos   or   (less   frequently)    threes, 
With  their  innocent  lamb's-wool   or  book   on  their 

knees, 
And  talk,  and  enact,  any  nonsense  you  please, 
As  they  gaze  into  eyes  that  are  blue  as  the  seas ; 
And  you  hear  an  occasional  "  Harry,  don't  tease" 
From  the  sweetest  of  lips  in  the  softest  of  keys, 
And  other  remarks,  which  to  me  are  Chinese. 
And  fast  the  time  flees ;  till  a  lady-like  sneeze, 
Or   a   portly  papa's   more   elaborate   wheeze, 


UNDER    THE    TREES.  91 

Makes  kiss   Tabitha   seize   on   her  brown  muffa- 

tees, 
And  announce  as  a  fact  that  it's  going  to  freeze, 
And  that  young  people  ought  to  attend  to  their  Ps 
And  their  Qs,  and  not  court  every  form  of  disease : 
Then    Tommy   eats  up   the   three   last   ratifias, 
And   pretty   Louise   wraps   her  robe   de   cerise 
Round   a   bosom   as   tender   as  Widow  Machree's, 
And    (in   spite   of  the  pleas   of  her  lorn  vis-a-vis) 
Goes  and  wraps  up  her  uncle — a  patient  of  Skey's 
Who  is  prone  to  catch  chills,  like  all  old  Bengalese  : 
But   at  bedtime   I   trust  he'll  remember  to   grease 
The   bridge   of  his  nose,  and   preserve   his  rupees 
From  the  premature  clutch   of  his    fond  legatees ; 
Or   at  least  have   no   fees   to  pay   any   M.D.s 
For   the   cold  his  niece   caught   sitting  under   the 

Trees. 


MOTHERHOOD. 

OHE   laid    it   where   the   sunbeams   fall 
Unscanned   upon    the   broken   wall. 
Without  a   tear,   without   a   groan, 
She   laid   it   near    a   might}^   stone, 
Which   some   rude  swain   had   haply   cast 
Thither   in   sport,    long   ages  past, 
And   Time   with   mosses   had    o'erlaid, 
And   fenced  with   many   a  tall   grass-blade, 
And   all    about   bid   roses   bloom 
And  violets   shed    their   soft   perfume. 
There,    in  its   cool    and    quiet   bed, 
She   set  her  burden   down   and  fled : 
Nor  flung,   all   eager   to   escape, 
One  glance  upon  the   perfect   shape 


MOTHERHOOD.  93 

That   lay,  still   warm    and   fresh   and    fair, 
But   motionless   and   soundless   there. 

No  human   eye  had   marked   her  pass 
Across   the   linden-shadowed   grass 
Ere   yet   the   minster   clock   chimed   seven : 
Only   the   innocent   birds   of  heaven — 
The   magpie,    and   the   rook   whose  nest 
Swings   as  the   elm-tree  waves   his   crest — • 
And   the   lithe   cricket,    and   the    hoar 
And  huge-limbed  hound  that  guards  the  door, 
Looked   on  when,    as   a   summer   wind 
That,   passing,   leaves   no   trace   behind. 
All   unapparelled,    barefoot  all, 
She   ran   to   that   old    ruined    wall. 
To   leave  upon  the    chill    dank   earth 
(For   ah !    she   never   knew   its   worth) 
'Mid   hemlock   rank,    and   fern,    and   ling. 
And  dews   of  night,   that   precious   thing! 


9  4  ^fO  T HER  HOOD. 

And    there  it   might   have   lain    forlorn 
From   morn  till    eve,    from   eve   to    morn : 
But    that,   by    some   wild    impulse   led, 
The    mother,    ere   she   turned   and    fled. 
One   moment  stood  erect   and  high ; 
Then   poured   into   the    silent  sky 
A   cry   so   jubilant,    so  strange, 
That   Alice — as   she   strove   to   range 
Her   rebel    ringlets   at   her  glass — 
Sprang   up  and   gazed   across   the   grass ; 
Shook   back  those  curls   so    fair   to   see, 
Clapped   her   soft   hands   in    childish   glee ; 
And  shrieked — her   sweet   face    all    aglow, 

Her   very   limbs    with   rapture   shaking — 
"My   hen   has   laid    an   ^^^,    I   know; 

"  And   only   hear   the   noise  she's    making ! ' 


MYSTERV. 

T   KNOW   not   if  in   other's   eyes 

She   seemed   ahnost   divine ; 
But   far  beyond   a   doubt   it   Hes 

That   she   did   not   in    mine. 

Each   common   stone   on    which   she   trod 

I   did   not   deem    a   pearl : 
Nay   it   is   not   a   htde   odd 

How   I    abhorred   that   girl. 

We   met   at   balls   and  picnics   oft, 
Or   on   a   drawing-room   stair  • 

My   aunt   invariably    coughed 
To   warn   me   she   was   there : 


96  MYSTERY. 

At  croquet   T   was   bid   remark 
How   queenly   was   her   pose, 

As   with   stern   glee   she   drew   the  dark 
Blue   ball   beneath   her   toes, 

And   made    the    Red    fly   many  a   foot : 
Then   calmly   she    would   stoop, 

Smiling   an   angel   smile,  to  put 
A   partner   through   his  hoop. 

At   archery   I   was   made   observe 
That   others    aimed    more    near, 

But   none   so   tenderly   could    cur\'e 
The   elbow   round   the   ear : 

Or   if  we   rode,  perhaps   she   did 

Pull    sharply   at   the   curb ; 
But   then   the   way   in   which    she   slid 

From   horseback   was   superb  ! 


MYSTERY. 

She'd   throw   off  odes,  again,  whose   flow 
And   fire   were   more   than    Sapphic ; 

Her  voice   was   sweet,  and   very   low ; 
Her   singing   quite    seraphic  : 

She   was   a   seraph,  lacking   wings. 

That  much   I   freely  own. 
But,  it   is   one   of  those   queer   things 

Wliose   cause  is   all   unknown — 

(Such   are   the   wasp,  the   household  fly. 

The   shapes   that   crawl    and   curl 

By  men   called   centipedes) — that   I 

Simply   abhorred   that   girl. 
*  *  * 

No   doubt   some   mystery   underlies 

All  things  which  are   and  which  are    not 

And   'tis   the   function   of  the   Wise 
Not   to   expound   to   us   what   is   what, 

7 


97 


J  MYSTERY. 

But   let   his   consciousness   play   round 
The   matter,  and   at   ease   evolve 

The   problem,  shallow   or   profound, 

Which   our   poor   wits   have   failed   to   solve, 

Then   tell   us   blandly   we   are   fools ; 

Whereof  we   were   aware   before: 
That   truth   they   taught   us    at   the   schools. 

And   p'raps    (who   knows  ?)    a   little    more. 

— But'  why   did   we   two   disagree? 

Our   tastes,  it   may   be,  did   not   dovetail 
All    I    know   is,  we   ne'er   shall    be 

Hero   and   heroine   of  a   love-tale. 


FLIGHT. 

r\   MEMORY!   that  which   I   gave   thee 
To   guard   in    thy   garner   yestreen — 

Little  deeming  thou  e'er  could'st  behave  thee 
Thus   basely— hath   gone   from    thee   clean! 

Gone,   fled,   as   ere   autumn   is   ended 
The  yellow  leaves   flee   from   the   oak — 

I   have   lost   it   for   ever,    my   splendid 
Original  joke. 

What   was   it?     I   know   I   was   brushing 
My   hair   when   the   notion    occurred: 

I   know   that   I   felt   myself  blushing 

As   I   thought    '  How  suprem-f'ly    absurd  ! 


loo  FLIGHT. 

'  How   they'll   hammer  on  floor  and  on   table 

'As   its    drollery    dawns    on    them — how 
*They   will   quote   it' — I    wish    I   were   able 
To  quote   it  just   now. 

I  had   thought   to   lead   up   conversation 
To   the   subject — it's   easily   done — 

Then  let   off,    as   an    airy   creation 
Of  the   moment,   that   masterly  pun. 

Let  it   off,    with   a   flash   like   a   rocket's ; 
In    the    midst   of  a   dazzled   conclave, 

While  I  sat,  with  my  hands  in  my  pockets, 
The   only   one   gra\'e. 

I   had   fancied   young   Titterton's   chuckles, 
And   old    Bottleby's   hearty   guffaws 

As   he    drove   at   my   ribs   with  his  knuckles, 
His   mode   of  expressing   applause : 


FLIGHT.  lOl 

While   Jean    Bottleby — queenly    Miss   Janet — 

Drew   her   handkerchief  hastily   out, 
In   fits   at  my   slyness — what   can  it 

Have   all   been   about  ? 

I  know   'twas   the   happiest,    quaintest 
Combination   of  pathos   and   fun: 

But   I've   got   no   idea — the   faintest — 
Of  what   was   the   actual   pun. 

I   think   it   was   somehow   connected 
With   something   I'd   recently   read — 

Or  heard — or   perhaps   recollected 
On   going   to   bed. 

What   had  I   been   reading?     The   Standard 
'  Double   Bigamy ';   '  Speech   of  the  Mayor, 

And   later — eh?   yes!    I   meandered 

Through   some   chapters   of  Vanity  Fair. 


102  FLIGHT. 

How   it   fuses   the   grave   with   the   festive ! 

Yet   e'en   there,  there   is    nothing   so  fine — 
So    plaxfully,    subtly   suggestive — 

As    that  joke   of  mine. 

Did   it   hinge   upon    '  parting   asunder '  ? 

No,  I  don't   part    my   hair   with   my  brush. 
Was  the  point  of  it  '  hair '  ?     Now  I  wonder  ! 

Stop   a   bit — I   shall   think   of  it — hush! 
There's   hare,    a   wild   animal — Stuff ! 

It   was   something  a   deal  more  recondite  : 
Of  that   I    am   certain    enough  ; 

And   of  nothing  beyond   it. 

Hair — locks  I    There   are   probably   many 
Good   things   to   be   said   about   those 

Give  me  time — that's  the  best  guess  of  any — 
*  Lock'   has   several   meanings,    one   knows. 

Iron    locks — iron-gray  locks — a   '  deadlock' — 
That   would    set   up   an   every-day   wit : 


FLIGHT.  103 

Then  of  course  there's  the  obvious  '  wedlock' ; 
But   that   wasn't   it. 

No  !   mine   was   a  joke   for   the   ages ; 

Full   of  intricate   meaning   and   pith ; 
A  feast   for  your   scholars   and   sages — 

How   it   would   have   rejoiced    Sidney    Smith 
'Tis  such  thoughts  that  ennoble   a   mortal ; 

And,   singling   him    out   from   the   herd, 
Fling   wide   immortality's   portal — 

But  what   was   the   word  ? 

Ah    me  !    'tis    a  bootless   endeavor. 

As    the   flight  of  a   bird   of  the    air 
Is   the   flight   of  a  joke — you   will   never 

See   the   same   one   again,   you   may   swear. 
'Tv.'-as  my  first-born,  and   O   how  I  prized  it  ! 

ISIy   darling,   my   treasure,   my   own  ! 
This   brain    and   none   other   devised   it — 
And   now   it   has     flown. 


ON    THE    BEACH. 

LINES    BY    A    TRIVATE   TUTOR. 

■\1[ /"HEN   the   young   Augustus   Edward 

Has   reluctantly   gone   bedvvard 
(He's   the   urchin    I   am   privileged   to    teach), 

From   my   left-hand   waistcoat   pocket 

I   extract   a   battered    locket 
And   I   commune  with   it,  walking   on    the   beach. 

I   had   often   yearned   for   something 

That  would   love   me,    e'en    a  dumb   thing ; 

But  such  happiness  seemed  always  out  of  reach  • 
I^ittle   boys   are    off  like    arrows 
With   their   little   spades   and   barrows, 

^Vhen  they  see  me  bearing  down  upon  the  beach  ; 


ON   THE  BEACH.  105 

And   although    I'm   rather  handsome, 
Tiny  babes,    when   I    would    dance   'em 

On   my   arm,    set   up   so   horrible   a   screech 
That   I   pitch   them    to   their   nurses 
With   (I   fear   me)    muttered    curses, 

And   resume   my   lucubrations  on   the   beach. 

And    the   rabbits   won't   come   nigh   me. 

And   the   gulls   observe   and   fly   me, 
And   I   doubt,   upon   my   honor,    if  a   leech 

Would   stick   on   me   as   on   others. 

And   I   know   if    I   had    brothers 
They  would  cut  me  when  we  met  upon  the  beach 

So   at   last   I   bought   this  trinket. 

For  (although  I  love  to  think  it) 
'Twasn't  given  me,   with    a  pretty   little   speech: 

No !    I   bought   it  of  a  pedlar, 

Brown  and  wizened  as  a  medlar, 
Who  was  hawkinsf  odds  and  ends  about  the  beach. 


io6  ON   THE   BEACH. 

But   I've   managed,    very    nearly, 

To   believe   that    I    was   clearly 
Loved  by   Somebody,  who  (lilushing  like  a  peach) 

Flung   it   o'er   me   saying   *  Wear   it 

For   my   sake ' — and,    I    declare,    it 
Seldom  strikes  me  that  I  bought  it  on  the  beach. 

I   can   see   myself  revealing 

Unsuspected   depths   of  feeling, 
As,  in   tones   that  half  upbraid  and  half  beseech, 

I   aver   with    what   delight   I 

Would   give    anything — my   right    eye — 
For   a   souvenir   of   our   stroll   upon    the   beach. 

O    that   eye    that   never   glistened 

And   that  voice   to   which    IVe   listened 
But   in    fiincy,   how    I    dote    upon    them   each ! 

How,   regardless   what   o'clock   it 

Is,    I   pore   upon   that   locket, 
Which  does  not  contain  her  portrait,  on  the  bench  ! 


ON   THE  BEACH.  107 

As   if  something   were   inside   it 

I    laboriously  hide   it, 
And   a   rather   pretty   sermon   you   might   preach 

Upon    Fantasy,    selecting 

For    your   '  instance '   the    affecting 
Tale   of  me   and   my   proceedings   on   the    beach. 

I   depict   her,   ah,   how   charming! 

I   portray   myself   alarming 
Her  by  swearing  I  would  'mount  the  deadly  breach, 

Or   engage   in    any   scrimmage 

For    a    glimpse  of  her    sweet   image, 
Or   her  shadow,  or    her    footprint   on   the   beach. 

And   I'm   ever   ever   seeing 

My   imaginary   Being. 
And  I'd  rather  that  my  marrow-bones  should  bleach 

In   the   winds,  than    that   a    cruel 

Fate   should    snatch  from    me    the    jewel 
Which  I  bought  for  one-and-sixpence  on  the  beach. 


LOVERS,  AND   A   REFLECTION. 

TN  nioss-prankt  dells  which  the   sunbeams  flatter 
(And  heaven  it  knoweth  what  that  may  mean; 

Meaning,  however,  is   no   great   matter) 

Where   woods   are  a-tremble,  with   rifts  atween  ; 

Thro'   God's   own   heather   we   wonned   together, 
I    and   my   Willie    (O   love   my   love) : 

I    need    hardly   remark   it   was   glorious   weather,^ 
And   flitterbats   wavered   alow,  above: 

Boat;  were  curtseying    using,   bowing, 
(Boats   in   that   climate    are    so   polite,) 

And   sands   were    a   ribbon    of  green   endowing, 
And   O   the    sun-dazzle    on  bark    and   bight ! 


LOVERS,  AND  A   REFLECTION.  109 

Thro'  the  rare  red  heather  we  danced  together, 
(O   love   my   WiUie !)    and   smelt   for   flowers : 

I  must  mention  again  it  was  gorgeous  weather, 
Rhymes  are  so  scarce  in  this  world  of  ours: — 

By  rises  that  flushed  with  their  purple  favors, 
Thro'   becks   that   brattled   o'er   grasses  sheen, 

We  walked  or  waded,  we  two  j'oung  shavers, 
Thanking   our   stars   we   were   both    so   green. 

We  journeyed   in   parallels,    I    and   Willie, 
In   fortunate   parallels  !      Butterflies, 

Hid   in   weltering   shadows   of  daffodilly 
Or   marjoram,  kept  making  peacock   eyes : 

Song-birds   darted   about,  some    inky 

As   coal,  some   snowy    (I   ween)    as   curds ; 

Or   rosy   as   pinks,  or   as    roses   pinky — 

They  reck  of  no   eerie   To-come,  these   birds ! 


no  LOi'ERS,  AND  A    REFLECTION. 

But  they  skira  over  bents  which  the  mill-stream 
washes, 

Or  hang  in  the  lift  'neath  a  white  cloud's  hem  ; 
They   need   no   parasols,  no   goloshes ; 

And  good   Mrs.    Trimmer   she   feedeth    them. 

Then  we  thrid  God's  cowslips  (as  erst  His  heather) 
That  endowed  the  wan  grass  with  their  golden 
blooms ; 

And  snapt — (it  was  perfectly  charming  weather) — 
Our   6ngers   at   Fate   and   her   goddess-glooms  : 

And  Willie   'gan   sing — (O,  his   notes   were  fluty; 
Wafts    fluttered   them    out   to   the   white-winged 
sea) — 
Something  made  up  of  rhymes   that  have   done 
much   duty, 
Rh\-mes    (better   to   put   it)    of  '  ancientr}' ' : 


LOVERS,  AND  A   REFLECTIOX.  in 

Bowers   of  flowers    encounted   showers 

In   William's   carol — (O   love   my   Willie  I) 

Tl:!en  he  bade  sorrow  borrow  from  blithe  to-morrow 
I    quite   forget   what — say    a   daffodilly  : 

A   nest   in   a   hollow,  "with   buds   to   follow," 
I   think   occurred   next   in   his   nimble   strain ; 

And  clay  that  was  "  kneaden  "   of  course  in  Eden — • 
A  rh}Tne   most   novel,  I    do    maintain  : 


Mists,  bones,  the   singer  himself,  love-stories, 
And    all   least  furlable   things   got   "fiirledj" 

Not   wath    any   design  to    conceal    their  glories, 
But   simply  and  solely  to  rh3-me  with  "world.' 
*  *  * 

O  if  billows  and  pillows   and  hours  and  flowers, 
And   all   the   brave    rhymes   of  an   elder   day, 


112  LOVERS.  AND  A  REFLECTION: 

Could   be   furled   together,  this   genial   weather, 

And   carted,  or   carried   on   wafts    away, 
Nor   ever   again   trotted    out — ay   me  ! 
How   much  fewer  volumes   of  verse   there'd  be ! 


THE    COCK    AND  THE   BULL. 

\/0U  see  this  pebble-stone  ?   It's  a  thing  I  bought 

Of  a  bit  of  a   chit  of  a  boy  i'  the  mid  o'  the  day— 

I   b"ke   to   dock   the   smaller  parts-o'-speech, 

As   we    curtail     the     already   cur-tailed    cur 

(You  catch  the   paronomasia,  play  o'  words?) 

Did,    rather,   i'   the   pre-Landseerian   days. 

Well,   to   my  muttons.     I   purchased  the   concern. 

And   clapt  it  i'   my  poke,  and  gave   for   same 

By   way,  to-wit,    of  barter   or   exchange— 

*  Chop  '  was  my  snickering  dandiprat's  own  term — 

One  shilling  and  fourpence,  current  coin  o'  the  realm. 

O-n-e   one   and   f-o-u-r   four 
8 


114  THE   COCK  AND    THE  BULL. 

Pence,  one  and  fourpcnce — ^j'ou  are  with  mc,  Sir? — 

What  hour  it  skills  not :  ten  or  eleven  o'  the  clock, 

One  day    (and  what   a   roaring   day   it   was !) 

In    Fcl^ruary,    eighteen    sixtj'   nine, 

Alexandrina   Victoria,    Fidei 

Hm — hm — how  runs  the  jargon?  being  on  throne. 

Such,   sir,    are    all    the   facts,  succinctly  put, 
The   basis   or   substratum — what   you   will — 
Of  the    impending    eighty   thousand   lines. 
"  Not  much  in  'em  either,"   quoth  perhaps  simple 

Hodge, 
But   there's   a   superstructure.     Wait   a   bit. 

Mark   first   the    rationale    of  the   thing : 

Hear  logic   rivel    and   levigate    the   deed. 

That  shilling — and  for  matter  o'  that,  the  pence  — 

1    had   o'    course   upo'    nie — wi'    me    say— 

iMeciDiC'-,   the    Latin,    make    a  note   o'   that) 


THE    COCK  AND    THE  BULL.  115 

When  I  popped  pen  i'  stand,  blew  snout,  scratched 

ear, 
Sniffed — tch  ! — at  snuff-box  \  tumbled  up,    he-heed, 
Haw-hawed    (not  hee-hawed,   that's  another  guess 

thing  :) 
Then   fumbled  at,    and    stumbled   out   of,   door, 
I    shoved   the  door   ope    wi'    my   omoplat ; 
And    in   vestibido^  i'   the   entrance-hall, 
Donned  galligaskins,  antigropeloes. 
And  so  forth ;  and,  complete  with  hat  and  gloves, 
One   on   and   one    a-dangle   i,    my    hand, 
And    ombrifuge    (Lord   love  you !),  case   o'  rain, 
I  flopped  forth,  'sbuddikins  !  on  my  own  ten  toes, 
(I   do   assure  you   there   be   ten    of  them,) 
And   went   clump-clumping  up  hill  and  down  dale 
To  find  myself  o'  the  sudden    i'  front   o'  the   boy. 
Put  case  I   hadn't  'em   on  me,  could  I  ha'  bought 
This   sort-o'-kind-o'-what-you-might-call   toy. 
This   pebble-thing,    o'   the   boy-thing  ?     Q.  E.  D. 


Il6  rilE    COCK  AND    THE  BULL. 

That's  proven    without   aid  from    mumping   Pope, 

Sleek   porporate   or   bloated  Cardinal. 

(Isn't   it,   old    Fatchaps?     YouVe    in    Euclid  now.) 

So,    having  the    shilling— having   i'    fact   a   lot — 

And  pence  and  halfpence,  ever  so  many  o'  them, 

I    purchased,    as    I    think    I   said   before, 

The   pebble    {lapis,  lapidis,    -di,  -dc?n,  -de — 

What  nouns  'crease  short   i'  the  genitive,  Fatchaps, 

eh?) 
O'  the  boy,  a  bare-legged  beggarly  son  of  a   gun, 
For   one  and   fourpence.     Here    we   are   again. 

Now  Law  steps  in,  big-wigged,  voluminous-jawed  ,• 
Investigates   and   re-investigates. 
Was   the   transaction   illegal?     Law    shakes   head, 
I'erpend,   sir,    all    the   bearings   of  the   case. 

At  first  the   coin   was   mine,   the  chattel    his. 
But    now   (by   virtue   of  the   said    exchange 


THE    COCK  AND    THE  BULL.  117 

And   barter)    vice   versa   all   the   coin, 

Per  juris  operationem^   vests 

I'   the   boy   and   his    assigns   till   ding   o'    doom  j 

i^In  scBcida   sceculo-o-o-orum ; 

I    think   I    hear  the    Abate   mouth    out   that.) 

To  have  and  hold  the  same  to  him  and  them  .  .  . 

Co?ifer   some    idiot   on    Convej^ancing. 

Whereas   the   pebble    and   every  part  thereof, 

And  all    that   appertaineth   thereunto, 

Or    shall,  will,   may,   might,  can,  could,  would,  or 

should, 
{Sttbaudi  ccetera — clap   we   to  the   close — 
For  what's  the  good  of  law  in  a  case  o'  the  kind) 
Is   mine   to   all   intents   and  purposes. 
This  settled,    I   resume  the   thread   o'   the   tale. 

Now   for  a  touch   o'   the  vendor's   quality. 
He   says   a   gen'lman   bought  a  pebble  of  him, 
(This  pebble  i'  sooth,  sir,  which  I  hold  i'  my  hand) — 


Ii8  THE   COCK  AND    THE  BULL. 

And  paid   for't,   like  a  gen'lman,  on    the  nail. 
'  Did  I    o'erciiarge  him  a  ha'penny  ?     Devil    a  bit. 
Fiddlestick's  end!     Get  out,   you   blazing  ass! 
Gabble  o'   the   goose.     Don't   bugaboo-baby  mi! 
Go    double   or    quits  ?     Yah !    tittup !    what's    the 

odds  ? ' 
— ^There's  the   transaction   viewed   i'   the   vendor's 

light. 

Next  ask  that  dumpled  hag,  stood  snufifling  by, 
With  her   three   fro  vvsy-blowsy   brats   o'   babes, 
The  scum  o'  the  kennel,  cream  o'  the  filth-heap — 

Faugh ! 
Aie,   aie,  aie,  aie !    otototototoI, 

('Stead  which  we  blurt  out  Hoighty-toighty  now) — 
And    the    baker  and    candlestick-maker,    and  Jack 

and  Gill, 
Bleared   Goody   this   and   queasy  Gafifer   that. 
Ask   the   schoolmaster.     Take   schoolmaster   first. 


THE    COCK  AND    THE   BULL.  119 

He   saw   a   gentleman   purchase   of  a   lad 
A   stone,    and   pay   for   it   rife,    on   the   square, 
And   carry   it  off  per  salt  urn,   jauntily, 
Propria  quce  maribns,   gentleman's   property   now 
(Agreeably   to .  the   law   explained   above), 
In  proprium   usum,    for   his   private   ends. 
The   boy  he   chucked   a  brown  i'  the  air,    and  bit 
1'  the  face  the  shilling  :  heaved  a  thumping  stone 
At   a   lean    hen    that   ran   cluck-clucking   by, 
(And    hit   her,    dead   as   nail   i'   post   o'    door,) 
Then   abiif — what's   the    Ciceronian   phrase? — 
Excessity   evasit,   erupit — off  slogs   boy  ; 
Off  in   three   flea-skips.     Hadenus,    so   far, 
So   good,   tajji  bene.     Bene,   satis,    male, — 
Where  was  I  ?  who  said  what   of  one  in  a   quag  ? 
I   did  once   hitch  the   syntax   into   verse : 
Verbutn  personate,    a   verb    personal. 
Concordat— z:^,  'agrees,'   old    Fatchaps — cutn 
Noininati-vo,  with   its    nominative, 


I20  THE    COCK  AND    THE    BULL. 

Genere,    i'   point   o'   gender,    juimero^ 

O'   number,   et  persona,    and   person.      Ul^ 

Instance :    Sol  ria't,    down    flops   sun,   et   and, 

Monies   umbrantiir,    snuffs   out   mountains.     Pah ! 

Excuse   me,  sir,   I  think   I'm   going   mad. 

You  see  the   trick   on't   though,  and   can   yourseH 

Continue   the   discourse   ad  libitum. 

It   takes   up    about   eighty   thousand   lines, 

A   thing   imagination   boggles    at: 

And   might,   odds-bobs,   sir !    in  judicious   hands, 

Extend   from   here    to  Mesopotamy. 


VISIONS. 

"  She   was  a  phantom"  etc, 

TN   lone   Glenartney's   thickets   lies   couclied   the 

lordly  stag, 
The   dreaming  terrier's  tail    forgets   its   customary 

wag; 
And  plodding  ploughmen's  weary  steps  insensibly 

grow   quicker, 
As   broadening   casements    light    them   on  toward 

home,    or   home-brewed   liquor. 

It  is  in  brief  the  evening — that  pure  and  pleasant 

time, 
When   stars   break   into   splendor,  and   poets    into 

rhyme ; 


122  r/s/oxs. 

When  in  the  glass  of  Memory  the  forms  of  loved 
ones   shine — 

And  when,  of  course,  Miss  Goodchild's  is  prom- 
inent in   mine. 

Miss  Goodchild  !  —  Julia  Goodchild  ! — how  gra- 
ciously  you  smiled 

Upon  my  childish  passion  once,  yourself  a  flair- 
haired   child : 

When  I  was  (no  doubt)  profiting  by  Dr.  Crabb's 
instruction,- 

And  sent  those  streaky  lollipops  home  for  your 
fairy    suction ! 

"  She   wore "   her   natural   "  roses,  the    night  when 

first   we   met " — 
Her  golden  hair  was  gleaming  'neath  the  coercive 

net: 
"  Her  brow  was  like  the  snawdrift,"  her  step  was 

like   Queen    Mab's, 


VISIONS.  123 

And  gone  was  instantly  the  heart  of  every  boy  at 
Crabb's. 

The  parlor-boarder  chasseed  tow'rds  her  on  grace- 
ful   limb  ; 

The  onyx  deck'd  his  bosom — but  her  smiles  were 
not    for   him : 

With  me  she  danced — till  drowsily  her  eyes  "  began 
to   blink," 

And  /  brought  raisin  wine,  and  said,  "Drink, 
pretty   creature,   drink  !  " 

And  evermore,  when  winter  comes  in  his  garb  ot 

snows, 
And  the  returning  school-boy  is  told  how  fast   he 

grows ; 
Shall  I— with  that  soft  hand  in  mine— enact  ideal 

Lancers, 
And   dream   I   hear    demure    remarks,    and   make 

impassioned    answers  : — 


124  VISIONS. 

I   know  that  never,    never  may   her   love   for   me 

return — 
At  night  I  muse   upon   the  fact  with  undisguised 

concern — 
But  ever  shall   I  bless  that  day :    I  don't  bless,  as 

a  rule, 
The   days   I    spent   at   "Dr.    Crabb's   Preparatory 

School." 

And  yet  we  too  Tfiay  meet  again — (Be  still,  my 
throbbing  heart!) 

Now  rolling  years  have  weaned  us  from  jam  and 
raspberry-tart. 

One  night  I  saw  a  vision — 'Twas  when  musk- 
roses   bloom, 

I  stood — 7ve  stood — upon  a  rug,  in  a  sumptuous 
dining-room : 

One  hand  clasped  hers — one  easily  reposed  upon 
my    hip — 


VISIONS.  125 

And  "  Bless  ye  !  "  burst  abruptly  from  Mr.  Good- 
child's   lip : 

I  raised  my  brimming  eye,  and  saw  in  hers  an 
answering  gleam — 

My  heart  beat  wildly — and  I  woke,  and  lo !  it 
was   a   dream. 


GEMINI    AND    VIRGO. 

OOME    vast   amount   of  years   ago, 
Ere   all   my   youth   had   vanish'd   from    me, 

A   boy   it   was   my   lot   to   know, 

Whom   his   familiar   friends   called   Tommy. 

I   love   to   gaze   upon    a   child ; 

A  young  bud   bursting   into   blossom ; 
Artless,   as    Eve   yet  unbeguiled, 

And   agile   as   a  young   opossum  : 

And   such    was   he.     A  cahn-brow'd   lad. 
Yet   mad, ,  at   moments,    as    a   hatter  : 

Why   hatters   as   a   race   are   mad 
I    never   knew,    nor   does   it   matter. 


GEMINI  AND    VERGI.  127 

He   was   what  nurses   call   a   "  limb ; " 
One   of  those   small   misguided   creatures, 

Who,    tho'   their   intellects    are  dim, 
Are   one   too   many   for   their   teachers : 

And,  if  you   asked   of  him    to   say 
What   twice    10    was,   or   3    times    7, 

He'd   glance    (in  quite   a   placid   way) 

From  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven  ; 

And   smile,    and   look   politely   round, 

To   calch   a   casual   suggestion  j 
But   make   no   effort    to   propound 

Any   solution    of  the   question. 

And   so   not   much   esteemed   was   he 
Of  the    authorities :    and   therefore 

He   fraternized   by    chance    with   me, 
Needing  a   somebody   to   care   for . 


128  GEMINI  AND    VIRGO. 

And    three   fair   summers   did   we   twain 
Live    (as   they   say)    and   love  together; 

And   bore  by   turns   the   wholesome   cane 
Till   our   young  skins   became   as   leather : 

And   carved   our   names   on    every   desk, 

And  tore  our  clothes,  and   inked  our  collars; 

And   looked   unique   and   picturesque, 
But   not,   it  may   be,   model   scholars. 

We   did   much   as   we   chose   to   do ; 

We'd   never   heard   of  Mrs.    Grundy ; 
All   the   theology   we   knew 

Was   that   wc    mightn't   play   on    Sunday ; 

And    all   the   general    truths,   that   cakes 
Were   to   be   bought   at   four   a  penny, 

And   that   excruciating   aches 
Resulted    if  we   ate   too   many : 


GEMIiVI  AND    VIRGO.     ■  129 

And   seeing  ignorance   is   bliss, 

And   wisdom   consequently   folly, 
The   obvious   result   is   this — 

That  our  two   lives   were   very  jolly. 

At   last   the   separation   came. 

Real   love   at   that  time   was   the   fashion ; 
And   by   a   horrid   chance,   the   same 

Young   thing   was,   to   us   both,    a  passion. 

Old   Poser  snorted   like   a  horse : 

His   feet  were  large,   his  hands  were   pimply, 
His   manner,   when   excited,   coarse  : — 

But   Miss   P.   was   an   angel   simply. 

She   was    a   blushing   gushing   thing ; 

All — more   than   all — my  fancy  painted  ; 

Once — when   she   helped   me    to   a   wing 

Of  goose — I    thought   I   should   have   fainted. 
9 


130  GEMINI  AND    VIRGO. 


The   people   said   that  she   was   blue  : 

But   I    was   green,    and   loved    her   dearly. 

She   was   approaching   thirty-two ; 
And   I   was    then   eleven,   nearly. 

I   did   not   love   as   others   do ; 

(None   ever  did   that   I've   heard   tell   of;) 
My   passion   was   a   byword   through 

The    town    she    was,   of  course,    the   belle   of: 

Oh   sweet — as   to   the   toil-worn   man 
The   far-off  sound   of  rippling   river  ; 

As    to   cadets   in    Hindostan 

The    fleeting   remnant   of  their   liver — 

To   me   was   Anna  ;    dear   as   gold 
That   fills   the   miser's   sunless   coffers  ; 

As   to   the   spinster,    growing   old, 
^he  thought — the  dream — that  she  had  offers. 


GEMINI  AND    VIRGO.  131 

I'd   sent  her   little  gifts   of  fruit ; 

I'd   written   lines   to   her   as   Venus ; 
I'd   sworn  unflinchingly   to   shoot 

The   man   who   dared   to   come   between   us  : 

And   it   was   you,   my   Thomas,    you, 

The   friend   in   whom   my   soul   confided. 

Who  dared  to  gaze  on  her — to  do, 
I   may   say,   much   the   same   as   I   did. 

One   night,    I   saw   him    squeeze   her   hand  j 
There   was   no   doubt   about   the   matter ; 

I    said   he    must   resign,    or   stand 

My  vengeance — and   he   chose   the   latter. 

We   met,    we    '  planted  '   blows   on   blows : 
We   fought   as   long   as   we  were   able  : 

My   rival   had   a  bottle-nose. 

And   both    my   speaking   eyes   were   sable, 


132  GEM  I  MI  AND    VIRGO. 

When   the   school-bell   cut   short   our   strife 
Miss   P.   gave   both   of  us   a   plaister ; 

And    in  a   week   became   the   wife 

Of  Horace   Nibbs,  the    writing-master. 

♦  *    .  :.':  *  * 

I   loved   her   then— I'd   love   her   still, 
Only   one   must   not   love   Another's : 

But   thou   and   I,    my   Tomm}',  will, 

When   we   again   meet,   meet   as   brothers. 

It   may  be   that   in   age   one   seeks 

Peace   only :    that   the   blood   is   brisker 

in   boys'   veins,   than   in   theirs   whose   cheeks 
Are  partially  obscured   by   whisker ; 

Or   that   the   growing   ages   steal 

The   memories   of  past   wrongs    from   us. 

But   this   is   certain — that   I   feel 

Most   friendly   unto   thee,  oh   Thomas  ! 


GEMINI  AND    VIRGO.  133 

And   wheresoe'er   we   meet   again, " 
On   this   or   that   side    the   equator, 

If  I've    not   turned   teetotaller    then, 

And   have  wherewith   to   pay   the   waiter, 

To   thee   I'll   drain   the   modest   cup, 
Ignite  with   thee   the   mild    Havannah ; 

And   we   will   waft,  while    liquoring   up, 
Forgiveness   to   the   heartless   Anna. 


"  There   stands   a   city." 

Ingoldsdy. 


\,^EAR  by   year   do   Beauty's   daughters, 
In   the   sweetest  gloves   and   shawls, 

Troop   to   taste   the   Chattenham   waters, 
And    adorn   the    Chattenham   balls. 

^  Nidla   non   donanda   iauru,' 

Is   that   city :   you   could   not. 
Placing    England's   map   before   you, 

Light   on    a   more    favor'd    spot. 

If  no   clear   translucent   river 

Winds    'neath   willow-shaded   paths, 

"  Children   and    adults  "   may   shiver 
All    dav   in    "  Chalvbeate   baths": 


"  THERE   STANDS  A    CITY:'  135 

And   on   ever}'   side   the   painter 
Looks   on   wooded   vale   and   plain 

And   on   fair   hills,    faint   and    fainter 
Outlined   as   they   near   the   main. 

There    I   met   with   him,    my   chosen 

Friend — the  '  long'  but  not  'stern  swell,'* 

Faultless   in    his   hats    and   hosen, 

Whom   the   Johnian   lawns  know  well : — 

Oh    my   comrade,    ever   valued ! 

Still    I    see   your   festive   face ; 
Hear   you   humming   of  "the   gal   you'd 

Left   behind "   in    massive    bass  : 

See   you   sit    A'ith   that  composure 

On    the   eeLeat   of  hacks, 
That   the   novice   would   suppose   your 

ISCanly   limbs   encased   in   wax : 

*  "  The   kites   know  well   the   long   stern   swell 
That  bids   the   Romans   close."— Macaulay. 


136  "  THERE   STANDS  A    CI  TV." 

Or  anon,  when  evening  lent  her 
Tranquil   light   to   hill   and   vale, 

Urge,  towards  the  table's  centre, 
With   unerring   hand,    the   squail. 

Ah   delectablest   of  summers  ! 

How   my   heart — that   "muffled   drum" 
Which   ignores   the   aid   of  drummers — 

Beats,    as   back   thy   memories   come ! 

O   among  the   dancers   peerless. 
Fleet   of  foot,   and   soft   of  eye ! 

Need   I   say   to   you   that   cheerless 
Must   my   days   be   till    I   die  ? 

At   my   side   she   mashed   the   fragrant 
Strawberry ;   lashes   soft   as   silk 

Drooped   o'er  saddened  eyes,  when  vagrant 
Gnats   sought   watery   graves   in    milk: 


"  THERE   STANDS  A    CITY."       '       137 

Then   we   danced,   we   walked    together; 

Talked — no   doubt  on   trivial   topics  j 
Such   as   Blondin,    or   the   weather, 

Which   "recalled   us   to   the   tropics." 

But — O  in  the  deuxtemps  peerless. 
Fleet   of  foot,    and   soft   of  eye  ! — 

Once  more  I  repeat,  that  cheerless 
Shall   my  days   be   till    I   die. 

And   the   lean    and   hungry   raven, 
As   he   picks    my   bones,    will    start 

To   obser\^e    '  M.    N.'   engraven 
Neatly   on    my   blighted   heart. 


STRIKING. 

TT  was   a   railway   passenger, 

And   he   lept   out  jauntilie. 
"Now   up   and   bear,   thou   stout   porter, 
My   two   chattels   to    me. 

"Bring   hither,    bring   hither   my   bag   so   red, 

And   portmanteau   so   brown : 
(They   lie   in   the   van,   for  a   trusty   man 

He   labelled    them    London    town :) 

"  And   fetch   me   eke   a   cabman   bold. 
That   I   may   be   his    fare,   his   fare ; 
And   he   shall   have    a  good   shilling, 
If  by   two   of   the   clock   he    do   me  bring 
To   the   Terminus,    Euston    Square." 


STRIKING.  139 

'<Now, — SO   to   thee   the    saints   alway, 

Good   gentlemen,   give   luck, — 
As   never   a   cab   may   I   find   this   day, 

For   the   cabman   wights   have   struck : 
And   now,  I   wis,    at   the  Red    Post    Inn, 

Or   else    at    the    Dog   and   Duck, 
Or   at    Unicorn    Blue,   or   at   Green   Griffin, 
The   nut-brown   ale   and   the   fine   old    gin 

Right  pleasantly   they  do   suck." 

"  Now   rede   me   aright,   thou   stout   porter, 
What   were   it   best   that   I   should   do: 

For   woe   is   me,   an'    I   reach   not   there 
Or   ever   the   clock   strike   two." 

"  I   have    a   son,    a   lytel   son ; 

Fleet   is   his   foot   as   the   wild   roebuck's  : 
Give   him   a   shilling,    and   eke    a   brown. 
And   he   shall    carry   thy  fardels   down 


I40  STRIKING. 

To    pAiston,   or   half  over   London   town, 
On    one  of  the   station    trucks." 

Then  forth  in  a  hurry  did  they  twain  fare, 
The  gent,  and  the  son  of  the  stout  portbr, 
Who   fled   hke    an    arrow,    nor   turned    a   hair, 

Through    all    the   mire    and    muck : 
"  A   ticket,    a   ticket,   sir   clerk,    I   pray : 
For  by  t^vo  of  the  clock  must  I  needs  away." 
"That   may   hardly   be,"    the   clerk   did   sa}', 

"For   indeed — the   clocks   have    ^itruck," 


VOICES   OF  THE  NIGHT. 

"  The  tender  Grace  of  a  day   that  is  dead." 
npHE   dew   is   on   the   roses, 

The   owl    hath   spread    her   wing; 
And   vocal    are   the   noses 

Of  peasant   and   of  king: 
"Nature"   in  short   "reposes"; 

But   I   do   no   such   thing. 

Pent  in   my   lonesome   study 
Here   I   must   sit   and   muse ; 

Sit   till   the   morn   grows    ruddy, 
Till,   rising  with   the   dews, 

«*Jeameses"  remove   the   muddy 
Spots  from   their   masters'  shoes. 


142 


VOICES  OF   THE  NIGHT. 

Yet   are   sweet   faces    flinging 
Their   witchery   o'er   me   here : 

I   hear   sweet   voices   singing 
A   song   as   soft,    as   clear, 

As    (previously    to   stinging) 
A  gnat   sings   round   one's   ear. 

Does   Grace   draw   young   Apollo's 
In   blue   mustachios   still  ? 

Does   Emma   tell   the   swallows 
How   she   will   pipe    and   trill. 

When,   some   fine   day,   she   follows 
Those   birds   to   the   window-sill  ? 

And   oh !  has    Albert   faded 
From  Grace's    memory   yet? 

Albert,   whose   "brow   was   shaded 
By  locks   of  glossiest  jet," 


VOICES  OF   THE   NIGHT.  143 

Whom    almost   any   lady'd 

Have   given   her   eyes   to   get? 

Does   not   her   conscience   smite  her 

For   one   who   hourly    pines, 
Thinking   her  bright   eyes   brighter 

Than   any   star   that   shines — 
I   mean   of  course   the   writer 

Of  these   pathetic   lines  ? 

Who  knows?      As  quoth  Sir  Walter, 
"  Time   rolls   his   ceaseless   course  : 

"  The   Grace   of  yore  "    may   alter — 
And   then,    I've  one   resource : 

I'll   invest   in    a   bran-new   halter. 
And.  Ill   perish   without  remorse. 


LINES  SUGGESTED  BY  THE  FOURTEENTH 
OF  FEBRUARY. 

T^RE   the   morn   the   East   has   crimsoned, 

When  the  stars  are  twinkling  there, 
(As   they   did   in   Watts'    Hymns,    and 

Made  him  wonder  what  they  were :) 
When   the   forest-nymphs   are  beading 

Fern  and  flower  with  silvery  dew — • 
My   infallible   proceeding 

Is   to   wake,   and   think   of  you. 

When    the   hunter's   ringing    bugle 
Sounds   farewell    to   field   and   copse, 

And   I    sit   before   my   fioigal 
Meal   of  gravy-soup   and   chops : 

When    (as    Gray   remarks)    "the   moping 
Owl    doth    to   the    moon    complain," 


LINES  SUGGESTED  BY  \^th  FEBRUARY.  T45 

And   the   hour   suggests   eloping — 
Fly   my   thoughts   to   you   again. 


May   my   dreams   be   granted    never? 

Must   I    aye   endure    affliction 
Rarely   realized,   if  ever, 

In   our   wildest   works   of  fiction? 
Madly   Romeo    loved   his  Juliet; 

Copperfield   began   to   pine 
When   he   hadn't   been    to   school   yet — • 

But  their  loves   were   cold   to   mine. 

Give   me   hope,   the   least,   the   dimmest, 
Ere    I   drain    the   poisoned   cujo : 

Tell   me    I   may   tell   the   chymist 
Not   to   make    that   arsenic  up  ! 

Else    the  heart   must  cease   to   throb   in 
This   my   breast  •  and   when,    in   tones 

Hushed,  men  ask,  "  Who  killed  Cock  Robin?  " 

They'll   be   told,    "Miss   Clara   J s." 

10 


A,  B,   C. 

A  is   an    Angel   of  blushing  eighteen : 

B  is    the   Ball   where    the    Angel   was   seen: 

C  is   her  Chaperon,    who  cheated  at   cards  : 

D  is  the  Deuxtemps,  with  Frank  of  the  Guards: 

E  is   her   Eye,   killing   slowly   but   surely : 

F  is    the    Fan,    whence   it   peeped    so   demurely; 

G  is   the   Glove   of  superlative   kid: 

H  is   the    Hand    which   it   spitefully   hid  : 

I  is    the   Ice    which   tlie    fair   one   demanded : 

J  is    the   Juvenile,    that   dainty    v/ho   handed  : 

K  is    the    Kerchief,    a    rare    work   of  art: 

L  is   the    Lace  which   composed   the  chief  part ' 

M  is  the  old  Maid  who  watch 'd  the  chits  dance; 

N  is   the    Nose    she    luiiicd  up   at   each    glance; 


.4.  B,   C.  147 

O  is   the    Olga    (just  then   in   its   prime) : 

P  is   the   Partner   who   wouldn't   keep  time : 

Q  's   a   Quadrille,   put   instead   of  the    Lancers: 

R  the   Remonstrances   made   by   the   dancers: 

S  is   the   Supper,    where   all   went   in  pairs : 

T  is   the   Twaddle   they   talked   on   the   stairs: 

U  is   the  Uncle  who    "  thought  we'd   be  goin' :  " 

V  is  the  Voice  which  his  niece  replied  '  No '  in : 
W  is   the   Waiter,  who   sat   up   till   eight  : 

X  is   his   Exit,    not   rigidly   straight: 

Y  is   a  Yawning  fit   caused   by   the   Ball : 
Z  stands  for   Zero,    or   nothing  at   all. 


TO   MRS.    GOODCHILD. 

npHE  night-wind's  shriek  is  pitiless  and  hollow, 

The   bodhig  bat   flits   by   on   sullen    wing, 
And   I  sit    desolate,   like   that   "one   swallow" 
Who     found     (with     horror)     that    he'd     not 
brought    spring : 
Lonely   he  who   erst   with   venturous  thumb 
Drew  from   its   pie-y   lair   the   solitary   plum. 

And   to   my  gaze   the   phantoms  of  the   Past, 

The  cherished  fictions   of  my   boyhood,  rise : 
I   see  Red   Ridinghood   obsen'e,   aghast. 

The   fixed  expression  of  her  grandam's  eyes ; 
I   hear   the   fiendish    chattering   and    chuckling 
Which    those    misguided     fowls    raised     at      the 
Ugly   Duckling. 


TO    MRS.    GOODCHILD.  149 

The    House    that    Jack    built — and    the    Malt 
that   lay 
Within  the  House— the  Rat  that  ate  the  Malt— 
The   Cat,   that   in   that   sanguinary   way 

Punished  the  poor  thing  for  its  venial  fault — 
The  Worrier-Dog — the  Cow  with  crumpled  horn — 
And   then — ah    yes !    and    then — the    Maiden    all 
forlorn ! 

0  Mrs.   Gurton — (may   I   call   thee   Gammer?) 
Thou    more   than  mother  to  my  infant  mind ! 

1  loved  thee  better  than  I  loved  my  grammar — 
I   used   to   wonder  why  the  Mice  were  blind, 

And   who   was   gardener   to    Mistress    Mary, 
And  what — I    don't    know    still — was    meant    by 
"quite   contrary." 

"Tota   contraria,"   an   '■^  Arundo    CamV 

Has   phrased   it — which   is   possibly   explicit, 


I50  TO  MRS.   GOODCHILD. 

Ingenious   certainly — but   all    the   same   I 

Still   ask,  when  coming   on  the  word,    '  What 

is   it?' 
There  were   more  things  in   Mrs.  Gurton's   eye, 

Mayhap,   than  are   dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy. 

No   doubt   the    Editor  of  '  Notes   and  Queries  * 
Or   *  Things   not  generally  known '   could  tell 

The  word's  real  force — my  only  lurking    fear  is 
That  the  great  Gammer  "  didna  ken  hersel  " : 

(I've   precedent,   yet   feel    I   owe   apology 
For  pa  sing  in  this   way  to  Scottish  phraseology). 

Also,   deaf  Madam,  I   must   ask -your  pardon 
For  making  this   unwarranted   digression, 

Starting  (I  think)  from  Mistress  Mary's  garden  : 
And   beg   to   send,   with    every  expression 

Of  personal   esteem,   a   Book   of  Rhymes, 
For    Master  G.    to   read   at   miscellaneous   times. 


TO  MRS.    GOODCHILD.  151 

There     is    a    youth,  who    keeps    a    '  crumpled 
Horn,' 
(Living  next   me,   upon  the  self-same    story,) 
And   ever,    'twixt    the    midnight   and    the  morn, 

He    solaces   his   soul   with    Annie  Laurie. 
The   tune  is    good  ;   the  habit  p'raps  romantic  ; 
But   tending,  if  pursued,    to   drive  one's  neighbors 
frantic. 

And   now, — at   this   unprecedented   hour, 
When    the    yoang    Dawn    is   "trampling   out 
the   stars," — 
I  hear  that  youth — with  more  than  usual  power 
And   pathos  —  struggling   with   the    first   few 
bars. 
And    I   do   think  the   amateur   cornopean 
Should    be  put  down    by   law — ^but  that's  perhaps 
Utopian. 


1^2  TO  MRS.    GOODCIIILD. 

Who   knows   what  "  things   unknown "    I    might 
have   "  bodied 
Forth,"  if  not  checked  by  that  absurd  Too-too  ? 
But   don't   I   know    that   when    my    friend   has 
plodded 
Through  the  first  verse,  the  second  will  ensue  ? 
Considering   which,  dear  Madam,  I  will  merely 
Send    the    before-named     book — and    am     yours 
most   sincerely. 


ODE— 'ON   A  DISTANT   PROSPECT' 
OF  MAKING  A  FORTUNE. 

TVrOW   the  "  rosy   morn   appearing  " 

Floods   with   light   the   dazzled    heaven, 
And   the   school-boy   groans   on   hearing 

That   eternal    clock   strike    seven: — 
Now   the   wagoner   is    driving 

Tow'rds   the   fields   his   clattering   wain; 
Now   the   blue-bottle,    reviving, 

Buzzes   down   his   native   pane. 

But   to   me   the   morn   is   hateful : 

Wearily   I    stretch   my   legs, 
Dress,   and   settle   to    my   plateful 

Of   (perhaps    inferior)    eggs. 


154 


ODE— '  ON  A    DISTANT  PROSPECT' 


Yesterday   Miss   Crump,   by   message, 

Mentioned  "  rent,"  which  "  p'raps  I'd  pay  ; ' 

And    I   have    a   dismal   presage 
That   she'll   call,    herself,    to-day. 

Once,    I   breakfasted   off  rosewood, 

Smoked   through   silver-mounted   pipes — 
Then   how   my   patrician   nose   would 

Turn   up   at   the   thought   of  "  swipes  ! " 
Ale, — occasionally   claret, — 

Graced    my   luncheon    then  ; — and   now 
1   drink  porter   in    a   garret, 

To   be  paid   for   heaven   knows   how. 

When   the   evening   shades   are   deepened, 
And    I    doff  my   hat   and   gloves, 

No   sweet   bird   is   there   to   ''  cheep   and 
Twitter  twenty   million   loves;" 

No   dark-ringleted   canaries 

Sing   to   me   of  "hungry    foam  ;" 


OF  MAKING  A    FORTUNE.  i,c;5 

No   imaginary    "  Marys  " 

Call   fictitious   "cattle   home." 


Araminta,   sweetest,   fairest! 

Solace   once   of  every   ill  ! 
How   I   wonder  if  thou   bearest 

Mivins   in   remembrance   still! 
If  that   Friday   night   is  banished 

From    a   once   retentive   mind, 
When   the   others   somehow  vanished. 

And  we   two   were   left   behind : — 

When   in   accents   low,   yet   thrilling, 
I   did   all    my   love   declare; 

Mentioned   that   I'd   not   a   shilling- 
Hinted   that   we  need  not   care : 

And   complacently   you   listened 
To   my  somewhat   long   address, 

And   I   thought   the   tear   that  glistened 
In    the   downdropt   eye   said   Yes. 


156      ODE— '  ON  A   DISTANT  PROSPECT.' 

Once,   a   happy   child,    I   carolled 

O'er  green   lawns   the   whole   day   through, 
Not   unpleasingly   apparelled 

In    a   tightish   suit   of  blue : — 
What   a   change   has   now  passed   o'er   me  ! 

Now   with    what   dismay   I    see 
Every   rising   morn    before   me ! 

Goodness   gracious   patience   me  ! 

And   I'll   prowl,   a   moodier   Lara, 

Thro'    the    world,    as   prowls   the    bat, 
And   habitually   wear   a 

Cypress    wreath   around   my   hat: 
And   when    Death   snuffs   out   the   taper 

Of  my   Life    (as   soon    he   must), 
1 11   send   up   to   every   paper, 

"Died,   T    Mivins;   of  disgust." 


ISABEL. 

"IVTOW  o'er  the  landscape  crowd    the    deepen- 
ing shades, 

And   the   shut  lily   cradles   not  the   bee  : 
The   red    deer   couches   in    the   forest   glades, 

And   faint   the   echoes   of  the   slumberous   sea: 

And  ere  I  rest,   one  prayer  I'll  breathe  for  thee, 
The   sweet   Egeria   of  my   lonely   dreams: 

Lady,   forgive,    that   ever   upon    me 

Thoughts  of  thee  linger,  as  the  soft  starbeams 
Linger  on  Merlin's  rock,  or  dark  Sabrina's  streams. 

On  gray   Pilatus   once   we   loved    to    stray, 
And  watch  far  off  the  jrlimmering  roselight  break 


15S  ISABEL. 

O'er     the    dim    mountain-peaks,   ere    yet  one    ray 
Pierced    the  deep  bosom  of  the   mist-clad  lake. 
Oh  !    who    felt   not   new    life    within    him    wake, 
And    his   pulse    quicken,    and    his   spirit   burn— 

(Save  one  we  wot  of,  whom   tlie  cold  did  make 
Feel    "shooting   pains   in   every  joint   in    turn,") 
When  first  we  saw  the  sun  gild  thy  green  shores 
Lucerne  ? 

And  years  have  past,  and  I  have  gazed  once  more 

On  blue  lakes  glistening  amid  mountains  blue  ; 
And   all   seemed    sadder,    lovelier    than    before— 

For   all    awakened    memories   of  you. 

Oh  !    had    I   had   you    by   my  side,    in    lieu 
Of  that  red    matron,  whom   the   files   would  worry, 

(Flies  in    those   parts   unfortunately   do,) 
Who  walked   so   slowly,    talked    in    such    a   hurry, 
And  with  such  wild  contempt  for  stops  and  Lindley 
Murray  ! 


ISABEL.  159 

O    Isabel,    the   brightest,   heavenUest   theme 
That   ere   drew   dreamer   on    to   poesy. 

Since   "  Peggy's   locks "    made    Burns    neglect   hib 
team, 
And  Stella's  smile  lured  Johnson  from  his  tea — 
I  may  not  tell   thee  what  thou  art  to    me ! 

But  ever  dwells  the  soft  voice  in   my  ear. 

Whispering  of  what  Time  is,  what  Man  might  be, 
Would  he    but  "  do  the  duty  that  lies  near," 

And  cut  clubs,  cards,   champagne,  balls,  billiard- 
rooms,    and   beer. 


LINES  SUGGESTED  BY  THE  FOURTEENTH 
OF  FEBRUARY 

"PyARKNESS   succeeds   to   twilight: 
Through   lattice   and   through    skylight 
The   stars   no   doubt,    if  one   looked   out, 
Might   be    observed  to   shine : 
And   sitting   by    the    embers 
I   elevate   my   members 
On   a   stray   chair,    and   then    and   there 
Commence    a   Valentine. 

Yea !    by    St.    Valentinus, 
Emma   shall    not   be   minus 
"W^hat   all   young   ladies,   whate'er   their  grade  is 
Expect   to-day   no   doubt: 
Emma   the   fair,   the   stately — 
Whom    I    beheld  so   lately, 


TTNES  SUGGESTED  BY  Uth  FEBRUARY.    161 

Smiling  beneath   the   snow-white   wreath 
Which   told    that   she   v^as    "out." 


Wherefore   fly   to   her,    swallow, 
And    mention    that   I'd    "follow," 
And    "  pipe    and   trill,"  et   cetera,   till 
I   died,   had   I   but   wings: 
Say   the    North's    "true   and   tender," 
The   South   an   old   offender ; 
And   hint   in   fact,  with   your   well-known   tact, 
All    kinds   of  pretty   things. 

Say   I   grow  hourly   thinner, 
Simply   abhor  my   dinner — 
Tho'   I   do   try   and    absorb    some   viand 
Each   day,   for   form's   sake   merely ; 
And    ask  her,   when   all's   ended, 
And   I    am   found   extended, 
With  vest   blood-spotted    and   cut   carotid, 
To   think   on   Her's   sincerely. 


"HlC    VIR,   HlC   EST." 
/^FTEN,    when   o'er   tree   and   turret, 

Eve   a   dying   radiance   flings, 
By   that   ancient   pile   I    linger, 

Known   familiarly   as   "  King's." 
And   the   ghosts   of  days   departed 

Rise,    and   in   my   burning   breast 
All   the   undergraduate   wakens, 

And   my   spirit  is   at   rest. 

What,   but   a   revolting   fiction, 

Seems   the   actual   result 
Of  the    Census's   inquiries 

Made   upon   the    15th   ult. .? 
Still   my   soul    is   in    its   boyhood ; 

Nor   of  year   or   changes   recks 


"  HIC    VI R   HIC  EST."  163 

Though   my  scalp   is    ahnost   hairless, 
And   my   figure   grows   convex. 


Backward   moves   the   kindly   dial ; 

And    I'm   numbered   once    again 
With   those   noblest   of  their   species 

Called   emphatically    '  Men' : 
Loaf,   as   I   have   loafed   aforetime, 

Through  the  streets,  with   tranquil    mind, 
And   a   long-backed   fancy-mongrel 

Trailing  casually   behind  : 

Past  the   Senate-house   I   saunter. 

Whistling   with    an   easy   grace ; 
Past   the   cabbage-stalks   that   carpet 

Still   the   beefy   market-place ; 
Poising  evermore   the   eye-glass 

In   the   light   sarcastic   eye, 
Lest,   by   chance,   some    breezy   nursemaid 

Pass,   without   a   tribute,    by. 


1 64  "  IIIC   VI R.  II I C  EST." 

Once,   an   unassuming   Freshman, 

Thro'    these   wilds    I    wandered  on, 
Seemg   in  each   house   a   College, 

Under   every   cap    a    Don  : 
Each   perambulating   infant 

Had   a  magic   in    its   squall, 
For   my   eager   eye   detected 

Senior   Wranglers   in   them   all. 

By   degrees   my   education 

Grew,    and   I    became   as  others ; 
Learned   to   blunt   my   moral    feelings 

By   the    aid   of  Bacon   Brothers ; 
Bought   me   tiny   boots   of  Mortlock. 

And   colossal    prints   of  Roe  : 
And   ignored   the   proposition 

That   both    time   and  money  go. 

Learned   to    work   the   wary   dogcart 
Artfully    thro'    King's    Parade ; 


"HlC    VIR,  HIC  EST."  165 

Dress,    and   steer   a  boat,    and   sport   with 

Amaryllis   in  the   shade: 
Struck,    at  Brown's,    the   dashing   hazard  ] 

Or    (more   curious   sport   than    that) 
Dropped,    at    Callaby's,    the    terrier 

Down   tipon   the   prisoned   rat. 

I   have   stood   serene  on    Fenner's 

Ground,  indifferent   to   blisters, 
While   the   Buttress   of  the   period 

Bowled   me   his   peculiar  twisters : 
Sung   '  We   won't   go   home   till   morning '  ; 

Striven   to   part   my   back-hair   straight ; 
Drunk    (not  lavishly)    of  Miller's 

Old   dry   wines   at    781  : — 

When   within  my   veins  the  blood   ran, 
And   the   curls   were   on   my   brow, 

I   did,    oh   ye   undergraduates, 
Much   as   ye   are  doing   now. 


1 66  "NIC    VIR,  IIIC  EST." 

Wherefore   bless   ye,   O   beloved   ones 
Now   unto   mine  inn   must   T, 

Your   'poor   moralist,'*   betake    me, 
In    my   solitary   fly.) 


*"Poor   monilist,    and   what   art   thou? 
A    solitary    fly." 

Gray. 


BEER. 

TN  those  old  days  which  poets  say  were  golden— 
(Perhaps  they  laid    the  gilding  on  themselves: 

And,  if   they   did,   I'm    all   the   more   beholden 
To   those   brown  dwellers   in   my  dusty   shelves, 

Who  talk  to  me  "  in  language  quaint  and  olden " 
Of   gods   and   demigods   and   fauns    and   elves, 

Pan  with  his  pipes,  and  Bacchus  with  his  leopards, 

And    staid   young   goddesses   who   flirt  with  shep- 
herds :) 

In   those   old   days,    the    Nymph   called   Etiquette 
(Appalling   thought  to  dwell  on)  was   not  born. 

They   had    their    May,   but   no   Mayfair   as   yet, 
No    fashions   vatying   as    the    hues   of  morn. 


l68  BEER. 

Just  as  they  pleased  they  dressed  and  drank  and 
ate, 
Sang   hymns   to   Ceres   (their   John  Barleycorn) 
And  danced  unchaperoned,  and  laughed  unchecked, 
And  were  no  doubt  extremely  incorrect. 

Vet   do   I    think    their   theory   was   pleasant : 
And   oft,    I   own,    my    '  wayward    fancy   roams' 

Back  to  those  times,  so  different  from  the  present ; 
When  no  one  smoked  cigars,  nor  gave  At-homes, 

Nor  smote  a  billiard-ball,  nor  winged  a  pheasant. 
Nor  'did'  her  hair  by  means  of  long-tailed  combs, 

Nor   migrated    to    Brighton   once    a   year. 

Nor — most   astonishing   of  all — drank    Beer. 

No,  they  did  not  drink  Beer,  "  which  brings  me  to" 
(As    Gilpin    said)  "  the   middle  of   my  ■  song." 

Not   that   "the   middle"    is   precisely   true, 

Or   else   T  should    not   tax   your   patience  long 


BEER.  169 

If  I   Had   said    '  beginning,'   it   might   do ; 

But    I   have   a   disHke   to    quoting   wrong : 
I   was   unlucky — sinned   against,    not   sinning — 
When  Cowper  wrote  down  '  middle'  for  'beginning.' 

So  to  proceed.     That  abstinence  from    Malt 
Has  always    struck    me    as    extremely  curious. 

The  Greek  mind  must  have  had  some  vital   fault, 
That  they  should  stick  to  liquors  so  injurious — 

(Wine,  water,   tempered  p'raps  with   Attic  salt) — 
And   not   at   once    invent   that   mild,   luxurious. 

And  artful  beverage,  Beer.     How  the  digestion 

Got  on   without  it,   is   a  startling  question. 

Had   they  digestions  ?  and   an  actual   body 
Such  as  dyspepsia    might  make   attacks   on  ? 

Were  they    abstract  ideas — (like  Tom    Noddy 
And   Mr.  Briggs) — or  men,  like  Jones  and  Jack- 
son ? 


lyo  BEER. 

Then   nectar — was   that   beer,   or   whiskey-toddy  ? 
Some   say   the   Gaelic   mixture,  /  the    Saxon  : 
I  think    a  strict  adherence  to  the  latter 
Might  make  some  Scots  less  pig-headed,  and  fatter. 

Besides,  Bon   Gaultier  definitely  shows 

That  the  real  beverage   for  feasting  gods  on 

Is  a  soft  compound,  grateful   to  the  nose 

And   also  to  the  palate,  known    as  '  Hodgson.' 

I  know  a  man — a  tailor's    son — who   rose 

To  be  a  peer :  and  this   I  would  lay  odds   on, 

(Though  in  his  Memoirs  it  may  not  appear,) 

That  that  man  owed  his  rise  to  copious  Beer. 

O  Beer  !    O    Hodgson,  Guinness,   Allsop,   Bass  ! 

Names  that  should  be  on  every  infant's  tongue  ! 
Shall  days  and  months  and  years  and  centuries 
pass, 

And   still   your  merits  be  unrecked,   unsung? 


BEER.  171 

Oil!    I    have  gazed  into  my  foaming  glass, 

And  wished  that  lyre  could  yet  again  be  strung 
Which   once    rang    prophet-like    through    Greece, 

and   taugl^t   her 
Misguided    sons   that   the   best    drink   was   water. 

How   would   he    now   recant  that  wild   opinion, 
And   sing — as  would  that  I  could  sing — of  you  ! 

I  was  not  born  (alas  !)   the  "  Muses'  minion," 
I'm   not   poetical,    not   even   blue : 

And  he,  we  know,  but  strives  with  waxen  pinion, 
Whoe'er  he  is  that  entertains  the  view 

Of    emulating    Pindar,    and   will    be 

Sponsor  at  last  to  some   now  nameless  sea. 

Oh  !  when  the  green    slopes  of   Arcadia  burned 
With    all  the  lustre   of  the  dying   day, 

And  on   Cithseron's  brow  the  reaper  turned, 
(Humming,   of  course,    in    his    delightful  way, 


I  y  ,  BEER. 

How    Lj'cidas  was  dead,  and   how  concerned 

.  Tlie  Nymphs  were  when  they  saw  his  lifeless  clay  j 
And   how  rock   told    to    rock  the   dreadful   story 
That  poor   young   Lycidas    was  gone  to  glory:) 

What  would  that  lone  and  laboring  soul  have  given, 
At  that  soft   moment  for  a   pewter  pot ! 

How  had  the  mists  that  dimmed  his  eye  been  riven, 
And    Lycidas  and  sorrow  all  forgot ! 

If«  his   own  grandmother  had  died  unshriven, 
In  two  short  seconds  he'd  have  recked   it  not  ; 

Such   power   hath   Beer.    The   heart    which   Grief 
hath    canker'd 

Hath  one  unfailing  remedy — the  Tankard. 

Cofifee  is  good,  and  so  no  doubt  is  cocoa; 

Tea    did    for   Johnson    and    the    Chinamen : 
When  *  Dulce  est  desipere  in  loco  ' 

Was  written,  real    Falernian    winged    the   pen. 


BEER.  173 

When   a  rapt  audience  has  encored  '  Fra    Poco ' 

Or   '  Casta  Diva,'     I    have   heard   that   then 
The  Prima  Donna,  smiling  herself  out, 
Recruits   her  flagging   powers    with    bottled  stout. 

But   what   is   coffee,  but  a   noxious   berry, 
Born  to  keep   used-up  Londoners    awake? 

What   is   Falernian,    what   is  Port   or   Sherry, 
But  vile  concoctions  to  make   dull  heads  ache? 

Nay    stout    itself  —  (though     good     with    oysters, 
very)— 
Is  not  a  thing  your  reading   man  should  take. 

He  that   would  shine,    and  petrify   his   tutor. 

Should  drink  draught  AUsop  in  its  "  native  pewter.' 

Bui  hark!  a  sound  is  stealing  on  my  ear — 
A  soft   and  silvery  sound — I   know  it  well. 

Its  tinkling   tells  me  that  a  time  is  near 
Precious  to  me — it  is  the   Dinner  Bell. 


1 74  B££M. 

0  blessed   Bell !     Thou   bringest   beef    and   beer, 
Thou  bringest  good  things  more  than  tongue  may 

tell: 
Seared  is,  of  course,  my  heart — but  unsubdued 
Is,   and  shall  be,  my  appetite  for   food. 

1  go      Untaught  and  feeble  is  my  pen  : 

But  on  one  statement  I    may   safely   venture : 
That  few  of  our  most  highly-gifted  men 

Have  more   appreciation  of  the   trencher. 
I   go.     One  pound   of  British  beef,  and  then 

What  Mr.  Swiveller  called  a  "  modest  quencher ; " 
That  home-returning,   I   may  'soothly  say,' 
"  Fate   cannot   touch  me :  I  have  dined  to-day." 


ODE  TO  TOBACCO. 

T^HOU   who,   when   fears   attack, 
Bidst   them   avaunt,    and   Black 
Care,   at   the   horseman's  back 

Perching,   unseatest  j 
Sweet   when   the   morn   is   gray; 
Sweet,   when   they've   cleared   away 
Lunch ;   and   at   close   of  day 

Possibly   sweetest : 

I  have   a  liking  old 
For  thee,    though   manifold 
Stories,    I   know,    are   told, 
Not  to   thy   credit ; 


1^6  ODE    TO    TOBACCO. 

How   one    (or  two   at   most) 
Drops   make   a   cat   a  ghost — 
Useless,    except   to   roast — 
Doctors   have   said   it : 

How   they   who   use   fusees 
All   grow   by   slow   degrees     • 
Brainless   as   chimpanzees, 

Meagre   as   lizards ; 
Go   mad,   and   beat   their   wives; 
Plunge    (after   shocking   lives) 
Razors   and   carving   knives 
Into   their  gizzards. 

Confound    such  knavish    tricks  ! 
Yet   know   I   five    or   six 
Smokers   who   freely   mix 

'  Still   with   their   neighbors , 


ODE    TO    TOBACCO.  177 

Jones — (who,  I'm   glad  to   say, 
Asked   leave   of  !Mrs.   J.) — 
Daily   absorbs   a  clay 
After   his   labors. 

Cats   may  have   had   their  goose 
Cooked   by   tobacco-juice ; 
Still   why   deny   its   use 

Thoughtfully   taken? 
We're   not   as   tabbies   are  : 
Smith,   take   a   fresh   cigar ! 
Jones,   the   tobacco-jar  ! 

Here's  to   thee,   Bacon  ! 


DOVER  TO   MUNICH. 

'PAREWELL,  farewell !     Before   our  prow 
Leaps   in   white   foam   the   noisy   channel ; 

A   tourist's   cap  is   on   my   brow, 

My   legs   are   cased   in   tourist's   flannel : 

Around  me  gasp  the  invalids — 
The   quantity   to-night  is   fearful — 

I   take   a  brace   or   so   of  weeds, 

And  feel  (as  yet)   extremely  cheerful. 

The   night  wears   on : — my   thirst   I   quench 
With   one   imperial  pint   of  porter; 

Then    drop  upon    a   casual   bench — 

(The    bench    is    short,    but    I    am    sliorter)— 


DOVER    TO  MUNICH.  179 

Place    'neath   my   head   the   havre-sac 
Which   I   have   stowed  my   little   all   in, 

And   sleep,   though   moist   about   the   back, 
Serenely   in   an   old   tarpaulin. 

Bed   at  Ostend   at  5   a.m. 

Breakfast   at   6,    and   train   6.30, 
Tickets   to   Konigswmter    (mem. 

The   seats   unutterably   dirty). 

And   onward   thro'   those   dreary  flats 
We   move,    with   scanty   space   to   sit   on, 

Flanked   by   stout   girls   with   steeple   hats, 
And   waists   that  paralyze   a   Briton  ; — 

By  many   a  tidy   little   town 

Where   tidy   little   Fraus  sit   knitting; 

(The   men's   pursuits   are,   lying   down, 
Smoking   perennial   pipes,   and   spitting;) 


l8o  DOVER    TO  MUNICH. 

And   doze,    and   execrate   the   heat, 
And   wonder  how   far  off  Cologne   is, 

And  if  we   shall   get   aught   to   eat, 
Till   we  get   there,    save   raw   polonies : 

Until   at  last   the   "gray   old  pile" 

Is   seen,   is   past,   and   three   hours   later 

We're   ordering  steaks,   and   talking  vile 
Mock-German   to   an   Austrian   waiter. 


Konigswinter,    hateful    Konigswinter  I 
Burying-place   of  all  I   loved   so  well ! 

Never  did   the   most   extensive   printer 

Print   a   tale   so   dark   as   thou   couldst   tell ! 


In   the   sapphire   West   the   eve   yet   lingered. 
Bathed   in   kindly   light   those   hill-tops   cold ; 

Fringed   each   cloud,    and,   stooping   rosy-fingered, 
Changed    Rhine's    waters   into   molten   gold ; — 


DOVER    TO  MUNICH.  l8l 

While  Still   nearer   did   his   light   waves   splinter 
Into   silvery   shafts   the  streaming  light ; 

And   I   said   I   loved   thee,    Konigswinter, 
For  the   glory   that   was   thine   that   night. 

And   we   gazed,   till   slowly   disappearing, 
Like   a   day-dream,   passed   the   pageant   by, 

And   I   saw   but  those   lone   hills,   uprearing 
Dull   dark   shapes   against   a   hueless   sky. 

Then  I  turned,  and  on  those  bright  hopes  pondered 
Whereof  yon   gay   fancies   were   the   type ; 

And  my   hand   mechanically   wandered 
Towards   my   left-hand   pocket   for   a  pipe. 

Ah !  why   starts   each   eyeball  from  its   socket. 
As,   in    Hamlet,    start   the   guilty   Queen's? 

There,  deep-hid   in   its   accustomed  pocket, 
Lay  my   sole  pipe,   smashed   to   smithereens  ! 


l82  DOVER    TO  MUNICH. 

On,   on   the   vessel   steals; 
Round   go   the  paddle-wheels, 
And  now   the   tourist   feels 

As   he   should ; 
For  king-like   rolls   the   Rhine, 
And  the   scenery's   divine, 
And  the   victuals   and   the   wine 

Rather  good. 


From   every   crag   we   pass  'II 
Rise   up   some   hoar  old  castle  j 
The   hanging  fir-gvoves   tassel 

Every  slope  ; 
And  the  vine  her  lithe   arms   stretches 
Over  peasants  singing  catches — 
And  you'll  make  no  end   of  sketches, 

I   should   hope. 


DOVER    TO  MUNICH.  183 

We've   a  nun   here    (called   Therbse), 
Two   couriers   out  of  place, 
One   Yankee   with   a  face 

Like   a   ferret's  : 
And   three  youths   in   scarlet  caps 
Drinking  chocolate   and   schnapps — 
A  diet  which   perhaps 

Has   its  merits. 


And    day  again   declines: 

In   shadow   sleep   the   vines, 

And   the    last  ray   thro'   the   pines 

Feebly  glows, 
Then   sinks   behind   yon   ridge; 
And   the  usual   evening  midge 
Is   settling   on   the  bridge 

Of  my   nose. 


1 84  DOVER   TO  MUNICH. 

And   keen's   the   air  and   cold, 
And   the  sheep   are   in  the  fold, 
And   Night   walks  sable-stoled 
Thro'  the  trees ; 

And   on  the   silent   river 
The  floating   starbeams   quiver  ;- 
And   now,   the   saints   deliver 
Us   from   fleas. 


Avenues   of  broad   white   houses, 
Basking   in    the   noontide   glare  ; —  ' 

Streets,  which   foot  of  traveller  shrinks  from, 
As   on   hot   plates   shrinks   the   bear; — 

Elsewhere   lawns,    and   vista'd   gardens, 
Statues  white,   and   cool    arcades, 

Where  at   eve   the   German   warrior 
Winks   upon   the    German    maids  ; — 


DOVER    TO  MUNICH.  185 

Such   is   Munich  : — broad   and   stately, 

Rich   of  hue,    and   fair   of  form; 
But,  towards   the   end   of  August, 

Unequivocally   warm. 

There,   the   long  dim   galleries   threading, 

May   the   artist's   eye   behold 
Breathing  from  the    "deathless  canvass" 

Records   of  the   years   of  old: 

Pallas   there,  and   Jove,   and   Juno, 

"Take"  once   more  their   "walks   abroad," 

Under  Titian's   fiery   woodlands 
And   the   safSron   skies   of  Claude: 

There   the   Amazons   of  Rubens 

Lift   the  failing   arm   to   strike. 
And   the  pale   light   falls   in  masses 

On    the   horsemen    of  Vandyke; 


l86  DOVER    TO  MUNICH. 

And   in   Berghem's   pools   reflected 
Hang  the  cattle's   graceful   shapes, 

And   Murillo's   soft   boy-faces 
Laugh   amid   the   Seville  grapes; 

And   all   purest,   loveliest   fancies 
That   in   poets'   souls   may   dwell 

Started   into   shape   and   substance 
At   the   touch   of  Raphael. 

Lo !   her   wan    arms   folded   meekly, 

And   the   glory   of  her   hair 
Falling  as   a   robe   around   her, 

Kneels   the  Magdalen   in    prayer ; 

And   the   white-robed   Virgin-mother 
Smiles,  as  centuries   back   she   smiled. 

Half  in   gladness,   half  in   wonder. 
On    the   calm    fice  of  her   Child  : — 


DOVER    TO  MUNICH.  187 

And  that  mighty   Judgment-vision 
Tells   how   man  essayed   to   climb 

Up   the  ladder  of  the   ages, 

Past  the   frontier-walls   of  Time ; 

Heard   the   trumpet-echoes   rolling 

Thro'   the  phantom-peopled   sky, 

And  the   still  voice   bid   this   mortal 

Put   on   immortality. 

*  *  *  * 

Thence  we   turned,  what   time   the   blackbird 
Pipes   to  vespers    from   his   perch, 

And   from   out   the  clattering   city 
Pass'd  into   the  silent   church; 

Mark'd   the   shower   of  sunlight  breaking 
Thro'   the  crimson    panes   o'erhead, 

And   on   pictured   wall    and   window 
Read   the   histories  of  the    dead  : 


1 88  DOVER    TO  MUNICH. 

Till   the   kneelers   round  us,   rising, 

Crossed   their   foreheads   and   were   gone ; 

And   o'er   aisle   and   arch  and   cornice, 
Layer,   on  layer,    the   night   came   on. 


CHARADES. 

I. 

QHE   stood   at  Greenwich,   motionless   amid 
The   ever-shifting   crowd   of  passengers. 

I   mark'd   a  big  tear   quivering   on   the   lid 
Of  her  deep-lustrous   eye,  and   knew  that   hers 
Were  days  of  bitterness.     But,  "  Oh  !  what  stirs" 

I   said    "such   storm   within   so   fair   a   breast?" 
Even   as   I   spoke,   two  apoplectic   curs 

Came   feebly   up :  with   one   wild   cry   she   prest 

Each  singly  to   her  heart,  and  faltered,  "  Heaven 
be  blest!" 

Yet  once   agam  I   saw  her,   from   the   deck 
Of  a  black  ship  that  steamed  towards  Blackwall. 


igo  CHARADES. 

She   walked   upon   my  first.     Tier   stately  neck 
Bent   o'er   an   object   shrouded   in   her   shawl : 
I   could   not  see  the  tears — the  glad  tears — fall, 

^et  knew   they  fell.     And    "Ah,"    I    said,   "not 
puppies, 
Seen   unexpectedly,   could   lift   the   pall 

From  hearts  who  knozv  what  tasting  misery's  cup  is 

As  Niobe's,  or  mine,  or   blighted  William  Guppy's," 


Spake  John  Grogblossom  the  coachman  to  Eliza 
Spinks   the   cook  : 

"Mrs.  Spinks,"  says  he,  "I've  founder'd:  'Liza 
dear,    I'm   overtook. 

Druv  into  a  corner  reglar,  puzzled  as  a  babe  un- 
born ; 

Speak  the  word,  my  blessed  'Liza ;  speak,  and 
John   the   coachman's   yourn." 


CHARADES.  191 

Then  Eliza  Spinks  made  answer,  blushing,  to  the 
coachman   John  : 

"  John,  I'm  born  and  bred  a  spinster :  I've  begun 
and    I'll  go   on. 

Endless  cares  and  endless  worrits,  well  I  knows  it. 
has   a   wife : 

Cooking  for  a  genteel  family,  John,  it's  a  golup- 
tious  life! 


**I  gets  ;^20  per  annum — tea  and  things  o'  course 

not  reckoned, — 
There's  a  cat  that  eats  the  butter,  takes  the  coals, 

and   breaks   my  second: 
There's  soci'ty — James  the   footman ;— (not   that  I 

look    after  him  ; 
But   he's    afPble    in    his    manners,   with    amazing 

length   of  limb  ;) — 


192  CHARADES. 

"  Never  durst  the  missis  enter  here  until  I've  said 

'  Come   in  ' : 
Tf  I   saw   the   master  peeping,   I'd   catch  up   the 

rolling-pin. 
Christmas-boxes,   that's    a    something;    perkisites, 

that's   something   too ; 
And   I   think,  take  all  together,  John,  I  won't   be 

on  with  you." 

John  the  coachman  took  his  hat  up,  for  he  thought 

he'd   had   enough ; 
Rubb'd   an  elongated   forehead  with   a   meditative 

cuff; 
Paused  before  the  stable  doorway ;  said,  when  there, 

in   accents   mild, 
"  She's   a  fine   young   'oman,    cook   is ;  but  that's 

where  it   is,  she's   spiled." 


CHARADES.  193 

I   have   read   in    some   not  marvellous   tale, 

(Or   if  I   have   not,    I've  dreamed) 

Of  one   who   filled   up    the  convivial   cup 

Till   the  company   round  him   seemed 

To   be   vanislied   and  gone,   tho'    the    lamps   upon 

Their  face   as   aforetime   gleamed : 
And   his   head   sunk   down,   and    a   Lethe   crept 
O'er  his  powerful  brain,  and  the  young  man  slept. 

Then  they  laid  him  with  care  in  his  moonlit 
bed: 

But  first — having  thoughtfully  fetched  some  tar — 
Adorn'd  liim  with  feathers,  aware  that  the  weather's 

Uncertainty  brings   on   at   nights   catarrh. 

They  stayed   in  his   room   till  the  sun  was  high : 

But   still    did   the   feathered   one   give   no   sign 
13 


1^4  CHARADES. 

Of  opening   a   peeper — he   might   be   a   sleeper 
Such   as  rests  on  the   Northern  or  Midland  line. 

At   last   he   woke,   and   with   profound 
Bewilderment   he   gazed   around ; 
Dropped   one,  then  both  feet  to  the  ground, 
But   never   spake   a   word : 

Then   to   my  whole  he   made   his   way  \ 
Took   one   long  lingering   survey ; 
And  softly,    as   he   stole    away, 
Remarked,    "  By   Jove,    a   bird  ! " 


II. 

TF  you've  seen  a  short  man  swagger  tow'rds  the 
footlights  at  Shoreditch, 

Sing  out  "  Heave  aho !  my  hearties,"  and  perpet- 
ually  hitch 

Up,  by  an  ingenious  movement,  trousers  innocent 
of  brace, 

Briskly  flourishing  a  cudgel  in  his  pleased  com- 
panion's  face  ; 

If  he  preluded  with  hornpipes  each  successive  thing 
he  did, 

From  a  sun-browned  cheek  extracting  still  an  os- 
tentatious quid ; 

And  expectorated  freely,  and  occasionally  cursed  : — 


196  CHARADES. 

Then    have   you   beheld,   depicted   by   a    master's 
hand,   my  first. 

O   my   countryman !   if    ever    from    thy    arm    the 

bolster  sped, 
In   thy    school-days,   with    precision    at    a    young 

companion's   head  ; 
If  'twas    thine   to   lodge  the  marble  in  the  centre 

of  the  ring. 
Or  with  well-directed  pebble  make  the  sitting  hen 

take  wing : 

Then  do  tnou — each  fair  May  morning,  when  thf; 

blue   lake   is   as   glass. 
And   the  gossamers   are  twinkling  star-like  in  the 

beaded  grass  3 
When  the  mountain-bee  is  sipping  fragrance  from 

the   bluebell's  Up, 


CHARADES.  19  j 

And  the  bathing-woman  tells  you,  Now's  your  time 
to   take   a   dip : 

When   along  the   misty    valleys    field-ward    winds 

the  lowing  herd, 
And  the  early  worm  is  being  dropped  on  by  the 

early  bird  ; 
And  Aurora  hangs  her    jewels  from  the  bending 

rose's   cup, 
And   the  myriad   voice   of  Nature    calls    thee    to 

my  second  up: — 

Hie  thee  to  the  breezy  common,  where  the  mel- 
ancholy goose 

Stalks,  and  the  astonished  donkey  finds  that  he 
is  really  loose ; 

There  amid  green  fern  and  furze-bush  shalt  thou 
soon  my  whole  behold, 


198  CHARADES. 

Rising  '  bull-eyed  and  majestic' — as  Olympus'  queen 
of  old : 

Kneel, — at  a  respectful  distance, — as  they  kneeled 

to  her,  and  try 
With  judicious  Jiand  to  put  a  ball  into  that  ball-less 

eye  : 
Till  a  stiffness  seize  thy  elbows,  and   the  general 

public  wake — 
Then  return,   and,   clear  of  conscience,  walk   into 

thy    well-earned  steak. 


III. 

rpRE  yet   "knowledge   for   the   million" 

Came   out  "neatly   bound  in  boards"; 
When  like  Care   upon   a  pillion 

Matrons  rode   behind   their   lords: 
Rarely,   save   to  hear   the   Rector, 

Forth   did   younger  ladies   roam ; 
Making  pies,   and   brewing   nectar 

From   the  gooseberry-trees   at   home. 

They'd   not   dreamed   of  Pau   or  Vevay ; 

Ne'er  should  into  blossom   burst 
At  the  ball   of   at   the    levee  ; 

Never   come,   in   fact,   7?iy  first: 
Nor   illumine   cards   by    dozens 

With    some   labyrinthine   text, 


2  00  CHARADES. 

Nor   work    smoking-caps   for   cousins 
Who   were   pounding   at   my  next. 

Now  have  skirts,  and   minds,  grown   ampler  j 

Now   not   all    they  seek    to   do 
Is   create   upon   a   sampler 

Beasts   which   Buffon   never    knew  : 
But  their  venturous   nmslins   rustle 

O'er   the  cragstone   and   the   snow, 
Or  at  home   their   biceps   muscle 

Grows  by   practising   the   bow. 

Worthy  they   those   dames   who,   fable 

Says,   rode   "  palfreys "   to  the   war 
With   some   giant   Thane,    whose   "  sable 

Destrier  caracoled  "   before ; 
Smiled,   as — springing  from   the   war-horse 

As   men   spring   in   modern    '  cirques ' — 
He   plunged,   ponderous   as   a   four-horse 

Coach,    among   the  vanished   Turks : — 


CHARADES.  201 

In   the   good   times   when   the  jester 

Asked   the  monarch  how  he   was, 
And   the   landlady  addrest  her 

Guests   as  '  gossip '   or   as    '  coz ' ; 
When   the   Templar   said,    "Gramercy," 

Or,    "'Twas   shrewdly   thrust,   i'   fegs," 
To    Sir   Halbert   or    Sir   Percy 

As   they   knocked   him   off  his   legs : 

And,   by   way  of  mild  reminders 

That   he  needed   coin,   the    Knight 
Day   by   day   extracted   grinders 

From   the   howling   Israelite : 
And   my   whole  in   merry    Sherwood 

Sent,   with   preterhuman  luck, 
Missiles — not   of  steel  but   firwood— - 

Thro'   the   two-mile-distant   buck. 


IV. 

T^VENING   threw   soberer   hue 
Over   the  blue   sky,   and   the   few 
Poplars   that  grew  just   in   the   view 
Of  the   hall    of  Sir   Hugo   de   Wynkle  : 
"  Answer   me   true,"   pleaded    Sir   Hugh, 
(Striving  some   hard-hearted  maiden  to  woo,) 
"What   shall    I    do,    Lady,    for  you? 
'Twill  be   done,   ere   your   eye   may  twinkle. 
Shall  I  borrow  the  wand  of  a  Moorish  enchanter, 
And   bid   a  decanter   contain   the   Levant,   or 
The  brass  lirom  the  face  of  a  Mormonite  ranter? 
Shall  I  go  for  the  mule  of  the  Spanish  Infantar — 
(That  r,   for   the  sake  of  the  line,  we  must  grant 

her,)— 
And   race  with  the  foul  fiend,  and  beat  in  a  cantei/ 


CHARADES.  203 

Like   that   first   of  equestrians   Tarn   o'    Shanter? 
I   talk  not  mere  banter — say  not  that  I  can't,    or 
By   this   my  first — (a   Virginia  planter 
Sold  it    me   to   kill   rats)— I    will   die   instanter." 
The   Lady   bended   her   ivory   neck,   and 
Whispered   mournfully,    "  Go   for — my  second.^' 
She  said,  and  the  red  from  Sir  Hugh's  cheek 

fled, 
And  "  Nay,"  did  he  say,  as  he  stalked  away 

The  fiercest   of  injured   men  : 
"Tmce   have   I  humbled   my   haughty   soul, 
And    on    bended    knee   have   I    pressed    my 
whole — 
But   I   never   wiLl  press   it   again ! " 


V. 

/~\N   pinnacled   St.    Mary's 

Lingers   the   setting   sun; 
Into    the   streets   the   blackguards 

Are   skulking  one   by   one : 
Butcher   and   Boots   and   Bargeman 

Lay  pipe   and   pewter  down ; 
And  with  wild  shout  come  tumbling   out 

To  join   the  Town   and   Gown. 

And   now   the   undergraduates 
Come  forth   by   twos   and   threes, 

From   the   broad  tower   of  Trinity, 
From    the   green   gate   of  Caius: 

The   wily   bargeman   marks   them, 
And   swears    to    do   his    worst ; 


CHARADES.  205 

To   turn   to   impotence  their   strength, 
And   their  beauty   to   my  first. 

But  before   Corpus   gateway 

My  second  first   arose, 
When   Barnacles   the   Freshman 

Was   pinned   upon   the   nose  : 
Pinned   on    the    nose   by   Boxer, 

Who   brought   a   hobnailed    herd 
From   Barnwell,    where   he    kept   a   van, 
Being   indeed   a   dogsmeat   man, 
Vendor   of  terriers,   blue   or   tan, 

And   dealer   in   my   third. 

'Twere   long  to   tell   how   Boxer 
Was   'countered'   on   the   cheek, 

And   knocked    into   the   middle 
Of  the   ensuing  week: 


2o6  CHARADES. 

How   Barnacles   the   Freshman 

Was   asked   his   name   and   college; 

And   how   he   did   the   fatal   facts 
Reluctantly   acknowledge 

He   called   upon   the   Proctor 

Next   day   at  half-past   ten ; 
Men   whispered   that   the   Freshman   cut 

A  different   figure   then : — 
That  the   brass   forsook   his   forehead, 

The   iron  fied    his   soul, 
As   with  blanched   lip   and  visage   wan 
Before   the   stony-hearted   Don 

He  kneeled   upon   my  whole. 


VI. 
QIKES,   housebreaker,   of  Houndsditch, 

Habitually   swore  ; 
But   so   surpassingly   profane 

He   never   was   before, 
As   on   a   night   in   winter. 

When — softly   as   he   stole 
In  the   dim   light   from   stair  to   stair, 
Noiseless   as   boys   who   in   her   lair 
Seek   to   surprise   a  fat   old   hare — 
He   barked   his   shinbone,    unaware 

Encountering   my  whole. 

As   pours   the    Anio   plainward, 

When   rains   have   swollen   the   dykes. 

So,   with   such   noise,   poured   down   my  first 
Stirred   by   the   shins   of  Bikes. 


2o8  CHARADES. 

The   Butler   Bibulus   heard   it ; 

And   straightway  ceased   to   snore, 
And   sat   up,    like   an   ^gg  on   end, 

"While   men   might   count   a   score : 
Then  spake   he   to   Tigerius, 

A   Buttons   bold   was   he : 
'-'  Buttons,   I   think   there's   thieves   about ; 
Just   strike   a   light   and   tumble   out; 
If  you   can't   find    one   go   without, 

And   see   what  ycu   may   see." 

But  now   was   all   the   household, 

Almost,*  upon   its   legs, 
Each   treading   carefully   about 

As   if  they   trod   on   eggs. 
With   robe   far-streaming   issued 

Paterfamilias   forth ; 
And   close  behind   him, — stout   and   true 

And   tender   as   the   North, — 


CHARADES.  209 

Came   Mrs.    P.,    supporting 

On   her  broad   arm   her   fourth. 

Betsy   the   nurse,   who   never 

From   largest   beetle   ran, 
And — conscious   p'raps   of  pleasing   caps — 

The   housemaids,   formed   the   van: 
And   Bibulus   the   butler. 

His   calm   brows   slightly   arched ; 
(No   mortal    wight   had   ere   that   night 

Seen   him    with   shirt   unstarched;) 
And   Bob    the   shockhaired   knife-bo}^, 

Wielding   two    Sheffield    blades, 
And   James    Plush   of  the   sinewy   legs, 

The   love   of  lady's   maids: 
And   charwoman    and    chaplain 

Stood   mingled   in   a   mass. 

And   "Things,"   thought   he   of  Houndsditch, 

*'  Is   come   to   a  pretty  pass." 
14 


2IO  CHARADES. 

Be\oiid   all    things   a   baby 

Is   to   the   schoolgirl    dear; 
Next   to   herself  the    nursemaid   loves 

Her   dashing  grenadier; 
Only   with   life   the   sailor 

Parts   from   the   British   flag; 
While  one  hope  lingers,  the  cracksman's  fingers 

Drop    not  his  hard-earned   swag. 


But,   as   hares   do   my  second 

Thro'   green    Calabria's   copses. 
As   females   vanish   at   the   sight 

Of  short-horns   and   of  wopses  ; 
So,    dropping   forks   and   teaspoons. 

The    pride   of  Houndsditch  fled, 
Dumbfoundered   by  the   hue   and   cry 

He'd   raised   up   overhead. 


CHARADES. 

They  gave   him — did   the  judges — 

As   much    as    was   his    due. 
And,    Saxon,   shouldst   thou   e'er   be   led 

To   deem   this   tale   untrue  j 
Then — any   night   in   winter, 

When   the   cold   north    wind   blows, 
And   bairns   are   told   to   keep  out   cold 

By   tallowing   the   nose : 
When   round   the   fire   the   elders 

Are   gathered   in   a   bunch. 
And   the  girls   are   doing  crochet, 

And   the   boys   are   reading   Punch: — 
Go   thou    and   look   in   Leech's   book ; 

There   haply   shalt   thou   spy 
A   stout   man    on    a   staircase   stand, 
With    aspect   anything   but   bland, 
And   rub   his   right   shin   with   his   hand, 

To  witness   if  I   lie. 


PROVERBIAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

A  RT   thou  beautiful,    O   ray   daughter,    as   the 

budding   rose   of  April  ? 
Are  all   thy  motions  music,  and  is  poetry  throned 

in   thine   eye  ? 
Then  hearken  unto  me  ;  and  I  will  make  the  bud 
•          a   fair  flower, 
I  will   plant  it  upon   the   bank   of  Elegance,  and 

water   it  with    the   water   of  Cologne  ; 
And  in  the  season  it  shall  "come  out,'*  yea  bloom, 

the   pride   of  the    parterre; 
Ladies  shall  marvel  at  its  beauty,  and  a  Lord  shall 

pluck    it    at   the    last. 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY.  213 


OF  PROPRIETY. 

Study  first  Propriety:  for  she  is  indeed  the  Pole- 
star 

Which  shall  guide  the  artless  maiden  through  the 
mazes   of  Vanity   Fair ; 

Nay,  she  is  the  golden  chain  which  holdeth  to- 
gether   Society ; 

The  lamp  by  whose  light  young  Psyche  shall  ap- 
proach  unblamed   her   Eros. 

Verily  Truth  is  as  Eve,  which  was  ashamed  being 
naked  ; 

Wherefore  doth  Propriety  dress  her  with  the  fair 
foliage   of  artifice : 

And  when  she  is  drest,  behold  !  she  knoweth  not 
herself    again. — 


214  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

I   walked    in   the   Forest;   and   above    me    stood 
the   Yew, 

Stood   Hke   a   slumbering  giant,    shrouded   in    im- 
penetrable  shade ; 

Then  I  pass'd  into  the  citizen's  garden,  and  marked 
a  tree  clipt  into  shape, 

(The  giant's  locks  had  been  shorn  by  the  Dalilah- 
shears   of  Decorum ;) 

And  I  said,  "  Surely   nature   is   goodly ;   but   how 
much   goodlier   is   Art !  " 

I   heard   the   wild   notes   of  the   lark   floating   far 
over   the   blue   sky, 

And   my  foolish   heart  went  after  him,   and,   lo ! 

I   blessed   him   as   he   rose ; 
Foolish  !    for    far    better    is    the    trained    boudon 

btrlfinch. 

Which   pipeth  the  semblance   of  a   tune,  and   me- 
chanically  draweth   up   water : 


PROVERBIAL   PHILOSOPHY.  215 

And    the  reinless  steed   of  the  desert,  though  his 
neck   be   clothed   with    thunder, 

Must  yield  to  him    that   danceth   and   'moveth   m 
the   circles'    at   Astley's. 

For  verily,  O    my    daughter,  the   world    is   a  mas- 
querade. 

And  God  made  thee  one  thing  that  thou  mightest 
make   thyself  another  : 

A   maiden's  heart  is    as   champagne,  ever  aspiring 
and   struggling   upwards. 

And  it  needed  that  its  motions  be  checked  by  the 
silvered   cork   of  Propriety : 

He   that  can  afford  the  price,  his  be  the  precious 

treasure, 
Let  him  drink  deeply  of  its  sweetness,  nor  grumble 
if  it   tasteth   of  the   cork. 


2i6  PROVERBIAL  rillLOSOPHY. 


OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

Choose  judiciously  thy  friends  ;  for  to  discard  them 

is  undesirable, 
Yet  it  is  better  to  drop  thy  friends,  O  my  daugh- 
ter,   than    to   drop   thy   '  H's'. 
Dost   thou  know   a   wise  woman  ?  yea,  wiser   than 

the   children   of  light  ? 
Hath   she   a   position  ?   and  a  title  ?   and   are   her 

parties   in   the   Morning  Post  ? 
If  thou   dost,  cleave  unto    her,  and  give   up   unto 

her   thy   body   and   mind ; 
Think    with    her   ideas,  and    distribute    thy   smiles 

at   her   bidding : 
So   shalt    thou    become    like   unto   her ;   and    thy 

manners   shall   be   "  formed," 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY.  217 

And  thy  name  shall    be   a   Sesame,  at   which   the 

doors   of  the   great   shall    fly   open : 
Thou  shalt   know   every   Peer,  his    arms,  and    tlie 

date   of  his   creation. 
His  pedigree  and  their  intermarriages,  and  cousins 

to   the   sixth   remove : 
Thou  shalt  kiss  the  hand  of  Royalty,    and   lo!  in 

next   morning's   papers. 
Side  by  side  with  rumors  of   wars,  and  stories  of 

shipwrecks   and   sieges. 
Shall   appear   thy   name,    and    the   minutiae  of  thy 

head-dress   and  petticoat. 
For  an  enraptured   public  to  muse  upon  over  their 

matutinal   muffin. 


2i3  PROVERBIAL  PinLOSOFHY. 


OF   READING. 

Read  not  Milton,  for  he  is  dry ;  nor  Shakespeare, 

for   he   wrote   of  common  life: 
Nor  Scott,  for   his   romances,   though   fascinating, 

are   yet   intelligible : 
Nor  Thackera)',  for  he  is  a  Hogarth,  a  photographer 

who   flattereth   not : 
Nor   Kingsley,    for   he   shall  teach  thee   that   thou 

shouldest   not   dream,   but  do. 
Read    incessantly    thy    Burke ;    that    Burke   who, 

nobler   than   he   of  old, 
Treateth  of  the  Peer  and  Peeress,  the   truly  Sub- 
lime  and   Beautiful  : 
Likewise  study  the  "  creations"   of  "  the  Prince  of 

modern   Romance"; 
Sigh    over    Leonard    the    Martyr,    and    smile    on 

Pelham   the   puppy : 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY.  219 

Learn    how   "  love    is    the   dram-drinking   of   ex- 
istence "; 
And  how  we  "  invoke,  in  the  Gadara   of  our  still 

closets, 
The  beautiful  ghost  of  the  Ideal,  with  the  simple 

wand   of  the  pen." 
Listen    how   Maltravers    and   the   orphan    "forgot 

all  but   love," 
And   how  Devereux's  family  chaplain    "made  and 

unmade   kings": 
How   Eugene  Aram,   though   a   thief,   a   liar,   and 

a  murderer, 
Yet,  being  intellectual,  was   among   the  noblest  of 

mankind. 
So    shalt    thou    live    in    a    world    peopled     with 

heroes   and    master-spirits ; 
And  if  thou  canst  not  realize  the  Ideal,  thou  shalt 

at  least   idealize   the   Real. 


CARMEN   S^CULARR 

MDCCCLIII. 

"  Quicquid  agunt  Iio/niius,  nostri  est  farrago  libelli." 

A  CRIS  hyems  jam  venit :  hyems  genus  omne 
perosa 
Foemineum,  et  scnibus  glacies  non  cequa  rotundis  : 
Apparent   rari   stantes   in    ti'amite   glauco ; 
Radit   iter,   cogitque   nives,   sua   tela,   juventus. 
Trux   matrona   ruit,    multos   dominata   per   annos, 
Digna   indigna  minans,  glomeratque  volumina  cru- 

rum ; 
Parte   senex   alia,   prxrepto   forte   galero, 
Per  plateas  bacchatur ;  eum  chorus  omnis  agrestuin 
Ridet  anhelantem  frustra,  et  jam  jamque  tenentem 
Quod  petit ;  illud  agunt  venti  prensumque  rc^orbent 


CARMEN  S^CULARE.  221 

Post,    ubi   compositus   tandem   votique   potitus 
Sedit  humi;   flet   crura   tuens  nive   Candida   lenta, 
Et   vestem   laceram,   et   venturas   conjugis   iras  : 
Itque   domum  tendens  duplices    ad  sidera  palmas, 
Corda   miser,   desiderio   perfixa   galeri. 

At  juvenis  (sed  cruda   viro   viridisque  juvenlus) 
Qusrit   bacciferas,    tunica   pendente,*   tabernas : 
Pervigil   ecce  Baco   furva   depromit   ab   area 
Splendidius   quiddam    solito,   plenumque   saporem 
Laudat,    et   antiqua  jurat   de    stirpe   Jamaicae. 
O   fumose   puer,   nimium   ne   crede   Baconi  : 
Manillas   vocat ;   hoc   praetexit   nomine   caules. 

Te   vero,   cui   forte   dedit   maturior   ^tas 
Scire   pqtestates   herbarum,  te   quoque   quanti 


*  tmiicCi  pendente:  h.  e.  'suspensa  e  brachio.'  Quod 
procuratoribus  illis-  valde,  ut  feriint,  displicebat.  Dicunt 
vero  morem  a  barbaris  tractiim,  urbem  Bosporiam  in  fl. 
Iside'habitantibus.  Bacciferas  tabernas  :  id  q.  nostri  vocant 
"  tobacco-shops." 


222  CARMEN   SyECULARE. 

Circumstent   casus,   piiucis    (adverte)    cloccbo. 
Praicipue,   seu  rnptat  anior   te   simplicis   herbae.* 
Seu   potius    tenui    IMusam    meditaiis   avena, 
Procuratorem    fugito,    nam   fcrreus   idem   esL 
Vita   seir.iboves   catulos,    redimicula   vita 
Candida :   de   ccelo   descendit  aJ^e  ceavT6v. 
Nube   vapcris   item    conspergere   praeter   euntes 
Jura  vetant,  notumque   furens  quid   feniina  possit . 
Odit   enim   dulces   succos   anus,   odit   odorem ; 
Odit   Lethffii   diffusa   volumina   fumi. 

Mille  modis  reliqui  fugiuntque  feruntque  laborem. 
Hie   vir   ad    Eleos,   pedibus    talaria  gestans, 
Fervidus   it   latices,  et   nil    acquirit   eundo  :  t 
Ille   petit  virides    (sed    non    e   gramine)   mensas, 


*  herhce — avoid.  Duo  quasi  genera  artis  poeta  videlut 
disiiriguere.     '  Weed,'  '  pipe,'  recte  Scaliger. 

\  vil  acquirit  euiido.  Aqua  enim  aspera,  et  radcntibus 
parum  habilis.  Immersum  hie  aliquem  et  vix  aut  ne  vix 
quidem  extractuni  refert  scliol. 


CARMEN  SMCULARE.  223 

PoUicitus  meliora  patri,  tormentaque*  ilexus 
Per  labyrintheos  plus  quam  mortalia  tentat, 
Acre   tuens,   loculisque   pilas   immittit   et   aufert. 

Sunt   alii,  quos   frigus  aquK,  tenuisque   phaselus 
Captat,   et   asquali   surgentes   ordine   remi. 
His   edura   cutis,    nee   ligno   rasile    tergum  ; 
Par   saxi   sinus  :    esca  boves   cum   robore    Bassi. 
ToUunt   in   numerum   fera  brachia,  vique   feruntur 
Per   fluctus :    sonuere   vise   clamore   secundo : 
At  picea   de   puppe   fremens   immane   bubulcus 
Invocat   exitium    cunctis,    et  verbera   rap  to 
Stipite   defessis   onerat  graviora   caballis. 

Nil   humoris   egent   alii.     Labor   arva   vagari. 
Flectere   Indus  equos,  et    amantem  deviaf  currum. 

*  tormenta  p.    q.  utorialia.     Eleganter,    ut     solet,    Peile. 

unearthly   cannons.'     (Cf.    Ainsw.    D.    s.    v.)     Perrecondita 

aiitem  est  qusestio  de  lusubus    illorum    tenn.icrum,  neque    in 

Smithii  Diet.  Class,  satis  elucidata.     Consuie  omnino  Kentf. 

de  Bill.     Lociilis,  bene  vertas  '  pockets.' 

\  amaniem   devia.      Quorsum   hoc,    quserunt   Interpretes. 
Suspicor  equidem  lespiciendos,  vv.    19-23,  de    piocuratoribus. 


224  CARMEN-  SJECULARE. 

Nosco   purpureas  vestes,   clangentia   nosco 
Signa   tubse;   et   cauclas   inter   virgulta   caninas. 
Stat   venator   equus,   tactoque    ferocior   armo 
Siirgit   in   arrectuin,    vix   auditurus   habenam ; 
Et  jam    prata   fuga   superat,   jam   flumina   saltu. 
Aspicias    alios   ab   iniqua   sepe   rotari 
In  caput,  ut  scrobibus  qus  sint   fastigia  quadrant : 
Eque  rubis  aut  amne  pigro    trahere  humida  crura, 
Et   fcedam    faciem,   defloccatumque   galerum. 

Sanctius  his  animal,  cui  quadravisse   rotundum* 
Musae  suadet   amor,    Camique   ardcnlis   imago, 
Inspicat   calamos   contracta   fronte    malignos, 
Perque    Mathematicum  pelagus,   loca   turbida,  an- 

helat. 
Circum     dirus     "  Hymers,"     nee    pondus    inutile, 

"  Lignum," 


•  quad*,  rot'n. — Cami  ard.  irno.  Quadrando  cnim  rotundum 
(Ang.  '  squaring  the  circle')  Camum  accendere,  juvenes  inge- 
nui  semper  nitebantur.      Fecisse  vero  quemquam  non  liquet. 


CARMEN  S^.CULARE.  225 

"  Salmoque,"   et  pueris  tu   detestate,   "  Colenso," 
Eorribiles   visu   formse  ]  livente   notatae 
Ungue   omnes   insignes   aure   canina.* 
Fervet   opus ;   tactitum   pertentant  gaudia   pectus 
Tutorum  ;  "  pulchrumque  mori,"  dixere,  "  legendo." 
Nee  vero   juvenes   facere  omnes  omnia  possunt. 
Atque   unum  memini  ipse,  deus  qui  dictus  amicis, 
Et   multum   referens   de   rixatoref   secundo, 
Nocte   terens   ulnas    ac   scrinia,   solus   in   alto 
Degebat  tripode  j   arcta  viro   viHsque   supellex  \ 
Et   sic   torva   tuens,   pedibus   per   mutua   nexis, 
Sedit,    lacte   mero   mentem   mulcente   tenellam. 
Et   fors    ad   summos   tandem   venisset   honores ; 
Sed   rapidi  juvenes,    queis   gi'atior  usus   equorum, 
Subveniunt,    siccoque   vetant   inolescere   libro. 
Improbus   hos   Lector  pueros,   mentumque  virili 

*  rure  canind.     Iterum  audi  Peile,  'dog's-eared.* 

\  rixatore.     non  male  Heins.  cum  Aldina,  'wrangler." 


226  CARMEN  S^ECULARE. 

Laevius,   et   durae  gravat   inclementia   Mortis  :* 
Suetos    (agmen   iners),   aliena   vivere   quadrd,t 
Et   lituo   vexare   viros,   calcare   caballos. 
Tales   mane   novo   saepe   admiramur   euntes 
Torquibus   m   rigidis   et   pelle   Libystidis   ursae , 
Admiramur   opust   tunicae,   vestemque||    sororem 
Iridis,   et   crurum   non   enarrabile   tegmen. 
Hos   inter   comites   implebat  pocula   sorbis 
In   felix   puer,   et   sese   recreabat   ad   ignem, 
"  EvoE,  §Basse,"  fremens  :  dum  velox  praeterit  aetas ; 

*  Mortis.  Verbum  general!  fere  sensu  dictum  inveni. 
Suspicor  autem  poetam  virum  quendam  innuisse,  qui  currus, 
caballos,  id  genus  omne,  mercede  non  minima  locaret. 

f  alicnd  qtmdi'd.  Sunt  qui  de  pileis  Academicis  accipiunt. 
Rapidiores  enim  suas  fere  amittebant.    Sed  judicet  sibi  lector. 

\  opus  tuniccE,  '  shirt-work.'     Alii  opes.     Perpei'am. 

\  vestem.     Nota  proprietatem  verbi.     'Vest,'  enim    apud 
politos  id.  q.  vulgo  '  waistcoat'  appellatur.     Quod  et  femiijae 
usurpabant,  lit    hodiemae,  fibula    revinctum,  teste    Virgilio : 
'  crines  nodantur  in  aurum, 
Aurea  purpuream  subnectit  fibula  vestem.' 

§  Basse,  eft.  Interpretes  illud  Iloratianum,  "  Bassum 
Tlireicia  vincat  amystide."  Non  perspexere  viri  docti  al« 
terum  hie  alludi,  Anglicanje  originis,  neque  ilium,  ut  per- 
bibent,  a  potu  aversum. 


CARMEN  S.-ECULARE.  227 

Venit   sumnia   dies  j   et  Junior   Optimus   exit. 

Saucius   at  juvenis   nota   intra   tecta   refugit, 
Horrendum   ridens,   lucemque   miserrimus   odit: 
Informem    famulus   laqueum   pendentiaque   ossa 
Mane   videt,   refugitque   feri   meminisse   magistri, 

Di  nobis  meliora  !  Modum  re  servat  in  omn' 
Qui^  s.apit :  baud  ilium  semper  recubare  sub  umbra, 
Haud  semper  madidis  juvat  impallescere  chartis. 
Nos  numerus  sumus,  et  libros  consumere  nati  ; 
Sed  requies  sit  rebus ;  amant  alterna  Camenae. 
Nocte  dieque  legas,  cum  tertius  advenit  annus: 
Tum  libros  cape;  claude  fores,  et  prandia  defer 
Quartus  venit:  ini,*  rebus  jam  rite  paratis, 
Exultans,    et   coge   gradum    conferre   magistros. 

His   animadversis,   fogies   immane   Barathrum 
His,    operose   puer,   si   qua   fata   aspera   rump  ^, 
Tu   rixator   eris.     Saltern    non   crebra   revises 

*  Int.     Sic  nostri,  'Go  in  nnd  win.'  rebus,  'sub    cts.' 


228  CARMEN  S^CULARE. 

Ad    stabuluiti,*   et  tota   nioerens   carpere  juventa 
Classe   nee   amisso   nil   profectura   dolentem 
Tradet   ludibriis   te   plena   leporis   HiRUDO.f 


*  crebra  r.  a.  stabulum.  "  Turn  up  year  after  year  at 
the  old  diggings,  {i.  e.  the  Senate  House,)  and  be  plucked," 
etc.     Peile.     Quo  quid  jejunius? 

f  Classe — Hirudo.  Obscurior  allusio  ad  picturam  quan- 
dam  (in  collectione  viri,  vel  plusquam  viri,  Punchii  reposi- 
tam,)  in  qua  juvenis  custodem  stationis  moerens  alloqui 
tur. 


DIRGE. 

"  Dr.  Birch's  young  friends  will  reassemble  to-day,  Feb.  ist. 

"f  TC  THITE  is  the  wold,  and  ghostly 

The  dank  and  leafless  trees; 
And  'M's  and  'N's  are  mostly 

Pronounced  like  'B's  and  'D's: 
'Neath  bleak  sheds,  ice-encrusted, 

The  sheep  stands,  mute  and  stolid  : 
And  ducks  find  out,  disgusted, 

That  all  the  ponds  are  solid. 

Many  a  stout  steer's  work  is 

(At  least  in  this  world)  finished; 

The  gross  amount  of  turkeys 
Is  sensibly  diminished  : 


230  DIRGE. 

The  holly-boughs  are  faded, 
The  painted  crackers  gone ; 

Would  I  could  write,  as  Gray  did, 
An  Elegy  thereon ! 

For  Christmas-time  is  ended : 

Now  is  "our  youth"  regaining 
Those  sweet  spots  where  are  "blended 

Home-comforts  and  school-training." 
Now  they're,  I  dare  say,  venting 

Their  grief  in  transient  sobs, 
And  I  am  "  left  lamenting " 

At  home,  with  Mrs.  Dobbs. 

O  Posthumus  !     "  Fugaces 

Labuntur  anni "  still ; 
Time  robs  us  of  our  graces, 

Evade  him  as  we  will. 


DIRGE.  231 

We  were  the  twins  of  Siam  : 

Now  she  thinks  me  a  bore, 
And  I  admit  that  I  am 

Inclined  at  times  to  snore. 

1  was  her  own  Nathaniel ; 

With  her  I  took  sw«.^-t  counsel, 
Brought  seed-cake  for  her  spaniel, 

And  kept  her  bird  in  groundsel : 
We've  murmured,   "  How  deHghtful 

A  landscape  seen  by  night,  is," — 

And  woke  next  day  in  frightful 
Pain  from  acute  bronchitis. 
*  *  *  * 

But  ah  !  for  them,  whose  laughter 
We  heard  last  New  Year's  Day, — 

(They  recked  not  of  Hereafter, 
Or  what  the  Doctor  'd  say,) — 


232  DIRGE. 

For  those  small  forms  that  fluttered 
Moth-like  around  the  plate, 

When  Sally  brought  the  buttered 
Buns  in  at  half-past  eight  1 

Ah  for  the  altered  visage 

Of  her,  our  tiny  Belle, 
Whom  my  boy  Gus  (at  his  age  !) 

Said  was  a  "  deuced  swell ! " 
P'raps  now  Miss  Ticklei-'s  tocsin 

Has  caged  that  pert  young  linnet ; 
Old  Birch  perhaps  is  boxing 

My  Gus's  ears  this  minute. 
» 

Yet,  though  your  young  ears  be  as 

Red  as  mamma's  geraniums. 
Yet  grieve  not  !     Thus  ideas 

Pass  into  infant  craniums. 


DIRGE. 

Use  not  complaints  unseemly; 

The'  you  must  work  like  bricks; 
And  it  is  cold,  extremely, 

Rising  at  half-past  six. 

Soon  sunnier  will  the  day  grow, 

And  the  east  wind  not  blow  so ; 
Soon,  as  of  yore,  L' Allegro 

Succeed  II  Penseroso  : 
Stick  to  your  Magnall's  Questions 

And  Long  Division  sums ; 
And  come — with  good  digestions — 

Home  when  next  Christmas  comes. 


233 


THE  CUCKOO.* 

'rpORTH  I  wandered,  years  ago, 

When  the  summer  sun  was  low, 
And  the  forest  all  aglow 

With  his  light: 
'Twas  a  day  of  cloudless  skies ; 

When  the  trout  declines  to  rise, 
And  in  vain  the  angler  sighs 

For  a  bite. 

And  the  cuckoo  piped  away — 
How  I  love  his  simple  lay, 

O'er  the  cowslip-fields  of  May 
As  it  floats ! 

♦  From  Scribner's  Monthly  for  January,  1873. 


THE  ClfCKOO.  23c 

May  was  over,  and  of  course, 

He  was  just  a  little  hoarse, 
And  appeared  to  me  to  force 

Certain  notes. 

Since  mid-April,  men  averred. 

People's  pulses,  inly  stirred 
By  the  music  of  the  bird. 

Had  upleapt : 
It  was  now  the  close  of  June ; 

I  reflected  that  he'd  soon 
Sing  entirely  out  of  tune, 

And  1  wept. 

Looking  up,  I  marked  a  maid 

Float  balloon-like  o'er  the  glade. 
Casting  evermore  a  staid 

Glance  around : 


236  THE  CUCKOO. 

And  I  thrilled  with  sweet  surprise 
When  she  dropt,  all  virgin-wise, 

First  a  courtesy,  then  her  eyes 
To  the  ground. 

Others'  eyes  have  p'raps  to  you 

Seemed  ethereally  blue. 
But  you  see  you  never  knew 

Kate  Adair. 
What  a  mien  she  had  !     Her  hat 

With  what  dignity  it  sat 
On  the  mystery,  or  mat, 

Of  her  hair ! 

We  were  neighbors.     I  had  doff'd 
Cap  and  hat  to  her  so  oft 

That  the  latter  had  grown  soft 
In  the  brim  : 


THE  CUCKOO.  237 

I  had  gone  out  of  my  way 

To  bid  e'en  her  sire  good-day, 
Though  I  wasn't,  I  may  say, 

Fond  of  him  : — 

And  we  met,  in  streets  and  shops, 

But  by  rill  or  mazy  copse,  • 

Where  your  speech  abruptly  stops 

And  you  get 
Incoherent  ere  you  know  it — 

Where,  though  nothing  of  a  poet. 
You  intuitively  go  it — 

Never  )'et. 

So  my  love  had  ne'er  been  told ! 

Till  the  day  when  forth  I  strolled 
And  the  jolly  cuckoo  trolled 

Out  his  song. 


238  THE  CUCKOO. 

Naught  had  passed  betwixt  us  two< 
Save  a  bashful  '  How  d'ye  do' 

And  a  blushing  '  How  do  you 
Get  along?' 

But  that  eve — how  swift  it  passed ! — 

Words  that  burned  flew  from  nie  fast 
For  the  first  time  and  the  last 

In  my  life : 
Low  and  lower  drooped  her  chin, 

As  I  murmured  how  I'd  skin 
Or  behead  myself  to  v,an 

Such  a  wife. 

There  we  stood.     The  scjuirrel  leaped 
Overhead  :  the  throstle  peeped 

Through  the  leaves,  all  sunshine-steeped, 
Of  the  lime. 


TFTE  CUCKOO.  239 

There  we  stood  alone  :  a  third 

Would  have  made  the  thing  absurd : 

And  she  scarcely  spoke  a  word 
All  the  time. 

******* 

We've  a  little  Kate,  a  dear ! 

She's  attained  her  thirteenth  year, 
And  declares  she  feels  a  queer 

Sort  of  shock — 
Not  unpleasant  though  at  all — 

When  she  hears  a  cuckoo  call : 
So  I've  purchased  her  a  small 

Cuckoo-clock. 

THE  END. 


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